


The Nutcracker

by timtom



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballet, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Smillan - Freeform, The Nutcracker, Their dialogue is just awkwardly adorable, movie, written from a short prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timtom/pseuds/timtom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Karen are two ballet dancers who are going to be presenting the Nutcracker on Christmas. But in between practices, late night stretches and walks around the park; they fall in love and put the whole show into jeopardy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One gets used to it, dear

**Author's Note:**

> This whole shenanigan was inspired by this graphic by Teagan who dreamed of Matt and Karen in the role of ballet dancers who fall in love in a movie. Since I am not a famous film-maker (not yet) or rich, I've resorted to writing about it. 
> 
> There is a not safe for work ending to this chapter, so if you don't want to read it and just skip to the safe for work ending which is the beginning of next chapter (when I have it up). Either that or just stop reading at the bold writing telling you to stop if you don't want your eyes deliciously violated. 
> 
> The title was taken from a quote from the nutcracker from the 1990 film adaptation. 
> 
> Here is the graphic:  
> http://claraweens.tumblr.com/post/40911051280/matt-and-kaz-star-in-a-movie-about-two-ballet

Matt had grown accustomed to the waving of butts and exposed limbs, thin fabric covering areas that he had only dreamt about being that close to as a boy in the privacy of his own bedroom. But one can only see so much skin before it’s become an everyday occurrence rather than a once in a lifetime commodity. He had the self-control of a dancer; a dancer that must lift beautiful women on an everyday basis and not complain about the feelings his dick had.

So why was it that once upon a cold October morning, when he had been warming up alone in the studio so he could practice alone before everyone else came in, when he met a woman – saw her really – did the feelings his dick had almost became very real again? He had arrived at the crack of dawn; seven in the morning, bundled up in sweaters and sweatpants worthy of Eskimo kings. He’s the principal male of the company, and one of the only males who could dance _en pointe_ , so it’s no wonder he dedicated hours of his spare time practicing his routines and jumps. Inside the warm interior of the dance studio with its familiar wooden floors under his dance shoes, he shed his layers of clothing like skin, piling them on his gym bag in the corner.

He did his routine stretches with his fingers to his toes and warm-ups on the barre, his lean dancer’s legs stretching easily on the smooth wooden bar attached to the mirror. He did a few hops experimentally – he’s always been stiff in the mornings, regardless how much stretching he’s done. His legs felt strong today though; he could _feel_ his muscles working when he did a grand plié, dipping all the way down before rising back up again. His thighs burned slightly as his knees pointed outwards, holding the stance.

He went on to do a few old routines and exercises that always helped him prepare his muscles before he went on to really focus at the performance at hand; they were going to present a revised edition of the Nutcracker at Christmas, and obviously, Matt was going to play the prince. He’s had his routines all handed to him, and he’s been rehearsing all the ones he could by himself in the past months, but they were yet to secure a ballerina for Clara – the rumour around the classes was that they were going to invite some posh foreign ballerina who was more capable of playing a believable Clara.

Of course, none of this had affected Matt in the slightest – he was still the principal male dancer, and he was still paired with only the best prima ballerinas in the company for performances. He’d only gotten a few rounds in though, before people started to file in for class. It had only been a little over an hour and a half, but Matt reckoned they’d spend today’s class on the Nutcracker sequences anyway.

The first person to interrupt him was actually a stranger – someone he’d never seen before. She didn’t ignore him, but she didn’t give him attention either. She had given him a glance when she was prepping on the barre, and there had been the sub context of a greeting, but then they had gone back to their routines, stretching like there’s no tomorrow. Matt wasn’t surprised or intimidated – they had new students sometimes, although they had often had news that they were going to be arriving before they were actually in front of them, bending over the barre.

It was then that Matt’s head subconsciously tilted as his eyes lingered not unwillingly at the woman’s rear end, her maroon leotard covering – or rather uncovering – just as much skin as any other female dancer in the company, and yet with the woman’s pale skin and clashing ginger hair, it had attracted Matt’s attention and held it there.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

Matt’s eyes shot up, his head following suit like someone had given him a right knock to the chin. His arms flailed awkwardly – often his demeanour when he wasn’t performing – following in his head’s direction. The woman was glancing at him opposite in the mirror, still stretched over her leg. Matt’s complexion was rather fair too, so when he felt heat rising to his cheeks, he knew just how obvious it was that he really _had_ been enjoying the view.

“Nice clips.” Was all she said in her Scottish accent before she returned to stretch the other leg, threading her finger into the fabric on her butt and giving her leotard a soft flick before she did so. Matt’s barely-there eyebrows head butted each other as he frowned, wondering what she was going on about before he saw his own reflection in the mirror.

_His sister’s clips._

The woman was talking about his sister’s clips that he had threaded through his hair, pinning his ridiculously long fringe back. It had always bothered him and recently he’d decided to do something about it. He had swiped them from Laura Jayne’s dresser after deciding getting permission was overrated and started to pin his hair up. Feeling self conscious, but not enough so that he would stop moving altogether, Matt resorted to stretching too, just not facing the woman. Or her butt. The pale behind that he had – and probably still do – find alluring. He had also taken the clips out, and stuffed them into his bag. Other people came into the room and wondered why Matt Smith, their principal male ballerina was stretching in the corner like a shy new kid. Nonetheless they greeted him like they usually do, ignoring the new woman altogether; the teacher will introduce her soon enough. 

At around nine o’clock their teacher waltzed in – Ms Claire was a sweet woman who had taught Matt since he was two decades old. They had built more than a bond together; she was his mother away from home. Being Australian sourced, she found British weather brutishly cold, and her legwarmers were permanently attached to her legs. She was also under the idea that dancers were especially susceptible to cold, so she came in wrapped in more layers than a game of ‘pass the parcel’.

“Gather round, children.” She said after shedding her layers, waving her arms. The class obediently collected like a pack of beagles, with a lane opened for Matt to get to the front. Ms Claire gave Matt a wry smile before calling, “Karen!”

There was an uncomfortable shuffle as people manoeuvred out of the way, letting a woman through. Matt’s eyes rolled back into his head as he nearly collapsed with _oh of course it had to be her_. Karen, with her red hair, maroon leotard and perfect arse stood next to Ms Claire, poised and rather beautiful, like a graceful giraffe. Matt mentally prepared himself as he anticipated the words to leave Ms Claire’s lips. He almost mouthed it along with her.

“This is Karen Gillan, and she is a prima ballerina we’ve managed to kidnap from the Scottish Ballet. She’ll, of course, be playing Clara. Wrap her in bubble wrap because if you break this one, you buy it.” At this Ms Claire’s eyes wavered as it made contact with Matt’s, who felt like his soul was leaving his body for good. But as if Karen was different only when she was with Matt, Karen smiled sweetly, almost goofily as Ms Claire finished talking. “Karen, this is Matt Smith. He will be playing opposite you as the nutcracker.”

“We’ve already met.” She smiled. Matt tried to smile but it felt like his face was fighting him. All he managed was a meagre wave of fingers and a _hng_ that he hoped resembled a _hello I’m sorry I was staring at your arse before but I’m more sorry that I’m looking forward to working with it._ “With you.” Matt corrected himself, before he realized he had said the last thing out loud. _Shit_. “I’m looking forward with you. To be _working_ with you.” He quickly added. Karen and he shook hands, and Ms Claire sent the class back on schedule with regular warm-ups.

"Demi, and stretch. Demi, and stretch. Full grand plie and return to first. Port de bras forward, and back, and repeat in second, fourth and fifth. Okay first position…and one..." Ms Claire’s voice was slowly drowned out as Matt couldn’t concentrate on anything, because Karen was behind him on the barre, and he could almost feel her eyes on his rear.

“Are you staring at my arse?” He whispered.

“It’s only fair.” She whispered back.

“Keep your shoulders down, Matthew. They haven’t been attached to your ears.” Ms Claire corrected him affectionately, as she strolled past the row of dipping dancers. Karen and Matt retracted back into silence as the rest of the lesson wore on. Thirty minutes in, all warmed up and ready to tackle a routine, they dropped headfirst into the Nutcracker.

“Alright my lovelies, are we warmed up? Yes? No? I’m fragile porcelain – okay! Let’s take it from the top. First positions please!” She would say, and they would do it from the first dance act that didn’t involve Karen and Matt doing a dance together. They would put together their dances in their own time, so now it was important to reinforce what the rest of the class was going to be performing. Matt and Karen were required too, just so they could keep their limbs limber. The entire time though, when the men were standing back doing a pose and the women were moving, Matt would marvel at the level of grace and fluidity Karen moved with – no wonder they had to invite someone from outside; if they were all this good they would’ve won an invitation to one of the best dance schools in the world by now.

She moved as if she was a light as a feather upon her pointes, effortlessly skimming the surface of the floor, never once losing her centre of gravity, pirouetting with such a marriage of grace and power it inspired envy from people who only witnessed from the corner of their eyes. With the revised choreography movements that Karen had memorized by heart, she was as agile as a swan. She wasn’t performing for anyone but herself, for the pure joy to be moving like something so beautiful and elegant and Matt felt like he could watch her for the rest of her life.

Then the music drew to an end, and Ms Claire clapped like a proud mother. “Brilliant! Fantastic! Wonderful! Et cetera, et cetera. I’d tell you to be more like Fonteyn, or Baryshnikov but I won’t. But I will say however, corps! Keep yourself in line, please. You’re not overcooked spaghetti.” The dancers took her advice wholeheartedly, nodding and retracing their steps absentmindedly as she pointed out to some dancers where they could’ve improved on. “Alright, we’re done for now. Remember to keep hydrated, be safe, eat fruit and I’ll see you back here this afternoon. Thank you!”

Then Ms Claire came over to Karen and Matt, who were standing next to each other like meek teenagers. “Matthew, Karen, I’ll leave you two in peace.” She said, winking at them both, blatantly unashamed at what she was implying. What she was implying of course, was that Karen and Matt needed to get their act together during lunch, literally. Right?

Everyone left, taking their bags, leaving Karen and Matt standing by each other, not speaking. It wasn’t until the room was empty did they start to move and talk like they remembered that they were alive and had appendages on their body that allowed communication and mobility.

“So … Scotland.” Matt managed as he walked over to his bag. “That’s … far.” He pulled out his drink bottle and took a few swigs. Karen did the same, and murmured a noise of agreement.

“Elementary, my dear Watson!” She laughed, tapping the side of her head and putting her drink bottle on the ground. Matt scoffed.

“Oh please, if you were going to make a Sherlock Holmes reference, you could at least have the decency to make me the detective.” He struck a pose. “I just look the type, don’t I?”

“I didn’t know all detectives came in thin packages marked ‘fragile’?” Karen said, as Matt joined them and they stretched some more, just to avoid injuries.

“If I have to lift you I should be marked _anything_ but ‘fragile’.” Matt said, as he flexed his arms jokingly. Karen put her hand on his biceps and made an exaggerated _not bad_ face.

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Definitely.” She said, nodding. “I’m very sure you’re very strong, and fr-agile.” Karen laughed. Matt swatted her hand away, brushing off where she had touched him. He grabbed the remote to the speakers and waved it in the air.

“Are you ready to start or not?” He asked, trying not to laugh along with her. Karen nodded with a few giggles and took her position on the floor in first position, waiting for Matt. He started the _pas du_ _deux_ from the Nutcracker between Clara and the prince, and stood behind her, with his hands on her waist. He hadn’t practiced with anyone for this, so it felt strange to have someone in his arms.

They both took their cues, separating into side by side, doing a synchronized _attitude derrière_ , kicking their legs back straight, parallel to the floor. It was then a step travelling _en avant_ ; a graceful step toward the mirror, and then another set of _attitude derrière._

Then Karen steps forward, with Matt close behind her. She does two _ballon_ , the fluid movement of bouncing onto her pointes and then onto her flat feet making the movement seem like she’s pausing mid-air before landing. Matt’s hands are always at her waist, ready to provide stability if she loses balance. Not that it would ever happen.

Then it was synchronised again, as Karen and Matt separate to do a _grand battement_ each, their left legs tossing up, straight and pointed against their bodies before retreating to the floor, then with their left hands leading to the left corner of the room with a soft point, they were both on pointe, gently tiptoeing diagonally across the floor with their feet in the _soussus_ position. A repeat of the routine followed, mirroring back across the floor to the right side. Then Matt resumed his position behind Karen, his hands ready as she pirouetted one, two, three times, landing with her leg extended behind her and she did a bow. Matt had to remember to get out of the way of her leg, unless he wanted to be jabbed in the shin with her pointe shoes. Then they were supposed to repeat the sequence, but Karen went left, and Matt went right, and they bumped into each other.

“We’re supposed to go left.” Karen said. Matt shook his head and stood his ground.

“Nuh uh we go right.”

“But if we went right there wouldn’t be enough room for the _arabesque_.”

Matt laughed. “You mean the _arabesque?_ The one in the middle?” He asked, with a half smile.

“I … Yes.” Karen admitted, scratching her nose. She was smiling behind her fingers though. “Let’s take it from the top.” She said as she walked back across the dance floor, reassuming her position. Matt chuckled and fiddled with the remote, and the music began again. He walked back across to Karen, putting his hands on her hips.

“Actually,” She said as she put her hands on his, her warm palms sending tingles down Matt’s arms against his cool knuckles. “I think they will be better further down,” Slowly, she slid them a little further, until Matt could feel the jut of her hipbones underneath his fingers. He swallowed, and Karen turned her head so she could look him in the eyes. “here.”

Matt’s eyes involuntarily switched from between her eyes – which he couldn’t tell if they were green or brown, but knew that they were beautiful and entrancing – and her pale pink lips. As his eyes grazed over her lips, they parted slightly, as if inviting him in. He was absentmindedly leaning in, toward her lips, because he just wanted to whisper words onto it, and memorize the curve and shape of it.

“We missed the cue.” Those lips said. Matt’s eyes went back to Karen’s, because it didn’t feel like she had said it. “The cue, we missed it.” Karen said, her hands overlaying his, still placed upon her hips. The _pas du deux_ had played on, and Karen was right – their cue had passed and they were still in first position. Matt cleared his throat, backed away, running his fingers through his hair and looking at the floor. 

“Right, yes. Too bad.” Then he finally looked at Karen again, making eye contact. Her eyes looked greener, browner, and her lips looked softer and he wanted them closer. “Maybe we should eat lunch now.”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Karen said nonchalantly, obviously not bothered by the extreme heat of the sexual tension in the room. It was thick and Matt felt like he was being smothered by it. His cheeks felt hot again, too. Karen reached into her bag to grab her lunch, and slumped to the floor with her own sandwich and a cling wrap package. She unwrapped the sandwich and was about to take a bite when she looked at Matt, her mouth still open. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” She asked.

Matt realized he was still standing in the middle of the dance floor. “Right.” He shuffled over to his bag awkwardly, all long limbs and not knowing what to do with them. When he had brought out his own sandwich, he sat down beside his bag, the gap between him and Karen feeling like a chasm. He took a bite, and Karen took a bite, and they chewed in silence for a while.

“Do you like me?” Karen asked, out of the blue.

“Uh…” Matt stuttered, looking around the room, as if the question could’ve been aimed at someone else. “Uh … yes?” He said, really not wanting to offend her. Also, he wasn’t really lying.

“So why are you sitting over there?” Karen said. Patting the floor next to her, she said, “Come here, I don’t bite.”

Slowly, Matt crab-shuffled over until their arms were nearly touching, and sat down beside her. Karen smiled, and punched him playfully in the arm. “See? I’m not so bad.”

Matt laughed; it wasn’t awkward so much as it was strangely pleasant, like an old schoolmate. “So Scotland? You were born there?”

Karen nodded, swallowing thickly. “Scotland, born and bred.”

“How long have you been learning ballet?” Matt said between chewing.

“Since I was about twelve. You?”

“Since I was sixteen.” Karen gave Matt a strange look. “I only started because I couldn’t play football anymore, because of a back injury.”

“Aw, poor baby.” Karen crooned, rubbing his back and putting her head on his shoulder. They ate the rest of their sandwiches in comfortable silence, save scattered small talk about wrinkly elbows, double rainbows and the possibility of dogs with gender issues. Then Karen finished her sandwich and opened the cling package. It held four jammy dodgers, and as soon as Matt’s line of vision hit the surface of that jam goodness, his eyes lit up.

“Oh my god I love jammy dodgers!” He yelled, making Karen jump.

“No way! So do I!” Karen squealed, offering him one. “Do you want one?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Matt said with glee, taking one. After they had finished their deserts, they delved into a deep discussion about the collective excellence that is shortbread and raspberry jam. Then the rest of the class began to come back, and at last their conversation was cut short by Ms Claire wandering back in.

“Alright, guys! Let’s pick up where we left off. Remember, you do not simply dance the snowflake, you _be_ the snowflake. You are a construction of water molecules frozen below freezing point! To your positions, please!” She said, clapping to get the class’s attention. The pupils all got into position, a boy to a girl, with Karen and Matt at the front. Ms Claire went up to them and had a quiet word.

“Have you got the _pas du deux_ up to date and synchronised?”

“Um, we’ve got the first quarter done, yes.” Karen said, with her brows furrowed, risking a glance at Matt. Then the whole memory of the wrinkly elbows, double rainbows, gay dogs and how jammy dodgers should replace the current and all currency came rushing back and they burst into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, it’s alright if you haven’t got it 112%; we can work on that later. But I’d like it at about 95% right now.” Ms Claire said, and it sounded like a question, so Karen and Matt both nodded enthusiastically – distracted as they were, they were still raised on the background of a professional dancer, and this was no time for shits and giggles.

Ms Claire walked back to the front of the room, remote in hand. Matt and Karen both resumed position, and when Matt’s hand went to her waist, Karen gave him a look. Matt remembered, and with a sly and overly exaggerated seductive look, slid them lower.

“And…” Ms Claire counted the dancers in, and the dance of the snowflakes commenced. It was a flurry of legs, arms and graceful falling, but the entire time, Karen and Matt danced like they were in their own little world. It was like they were in a snow globe, and they had to keep dancing as long as the snow was falling.

Even though they hadn’t gone as far as the entire dance during the rehearsal, they rode through the entire dance with ease. It was like they were born to dance this dance; and to dance it with each other. They had to repeat the dance several times because Ms Claire was not happy with the turns – ‘ _you must turn like a lazy Susan. Turn Susan, turn!’_ – but every time the Clara and prince _pas du deux_ was executed with excellence and grace.

On the very last repeat, Karen added her own flourish to the ending, pirouetting one – two – three – four – five times. The class murmured in approval as she knelt in her final pose as the music fell into a close. As if they had hacked into the hive mind, they erupted into applause at the same time, and Karen gave a ballerina’s curtsy.

“Okay, we’re out of time now; we’ll pick this up tomorrow.” Ms Claire yelled over the roar of the class, and the sound obediently died down. “Fantastic work, everyone! Make sure to practice your steps, because tomorrow we tackle what is universally hated by all ballet dancers – the clean up session!” There were a few groans of protest in the crowd – including one of similar pitch from Matt and Karen. “Yes, I know. I know how you feel; I was one of you once.” She waved. “Ciao!” Ms Claire waved, as she picked up her bags and began to replaster her clothes back on.

Everyone went to their bags, and Matt waited – he was always the last to leave, it was less cramped that way. Karen bent to put her stuff away and to grab her clothes, and Matt was rewarded with another straight shot of her behind.

“Are you staring at my arse again, Smith?” Karen said without even looking at him, her hands still buried in her bag. She glanced over her shoulder, and smiled when she saw Matt standing in the middle of the dance floor, face as red as a tomato. 

Matt chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, and wandered over to his own bag, because enough people there had already cleared out. He got his clothes and his bag and went to change, and when he came out he bumped into Karen again.

She laughed and apologised, and said _see you tomorrow bright and early sunshine_ with a lingering hand at his arm. So it was then that Karen and Matt began and ended every lesson with each other, and spent nearly all of their spare time with each other, rehearsing.

It was Karen’s idea, really, to rehearse after dinner, since they were both nocturnal so it made sense to Matt. Sometimes afterwards they would grab smoothies or tea from this place down the street that opens early into the morning and work off the rest of their hype by walking around in the park, talking about everything and nothing.

But you couldn’t spend this much time with someone and not notice special things about the other person. Especially things like how Karen’s nose crinkled when she laughed at his dumb jokes, or how she requested to pin back Matt’s hair every rehearsal, and how gentle and soft her fingers were, dancing or not, or how smooth her skin felt, or how good she was at prose – it intimidated him sometimes, really – but it wasn’t just that. It was how easily they talked, during practice, or late nights of stretching and walking in the park.

Except in the dark hours of the night while his mind could run free, tantalising him with the soft curves in the maroon leotard carved in the shape of Karen’s body, the one he had grown so accustomed to he knew every crook and curve. It was during a late night rehearsal at the beginning of December did he realize something he’d been denying since he started working with her.

They were talking about how it was so most definitely possible that ducks could overtake lovebirds as the affection birds.

“I mean they’re like ducks. _And ducks_ _mate for life_.” Karen said, in reference to her friends David and Georgia. Matt nodded – he had met David and Georgia once, the preppy man with brown hair and his petite blonde wife – he could definitely see where Karen was coming from.

“But marriage is overrated. They were definitely _quackers_ to get married.” Matt said, and then watched Karen for her reaction. On cue, Karen burst into laughter, mid-stretch. They were warming down after their rehearsal, and were just about to go grab something to eat. Matt was smiling softly, thinking how he just wanted to keep Karen’s laugh in a jar. Then they went off to get changed, and as Matt was pulling on his clothes, he realized he was thinking about Karen and wondered how she moved when she put on a sweater. Then he realized he was wondering what she would look like in his sweater, and then how much he was looking forward to seeing her and going to the park and maybe holding her hand and hearing her laugh again and

Holy shit he was in love with Karen.

He was mid-step into his sweat pants, and stopped suddenly, so he toppled over with a crash due to lack of momentum.

“Ow.” Matt groaned, rubbing his shoulder. But he didn’t get up, not just yet. He let the realization of the fact that he had fallen in love with Karen sink in, feeling the weight pressing on his chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t stay lying down long enough though, to start thinking about her again. He made it into his pants, and shoes, and put everything into his bag. Then he walked out, not really sure how to act now that he knew he was in love with Karen.

It wasn’t like Karen had changed, physically or emotionally. But it was just that she was now the woman he was in love with, and somehow that amplified everything he did ten times over with embarrassment and regret.

“Hey, ready to go? I’m starving.” Karen grinned when he came out, putting her arm into Matt’s. And all of a sudden Matt was just so much more aware of the heat coming off of her body, and how close they were, and how much he never wanted her to let go.

“Sure.”

They wandered down slowly on the street, the street lamps providing dim light that almost looked romantic. Karen had her head on his shoulder, and her other hand placed around his arm. Her eyes were closed and she was humming the overture, and then the theme of the _pas du deux_. It was like Matt wanted to print a copy of this moment, and hang it inside his mind. It was just so perfect because she was perfect, not just in this moment. They came to the shop, with the friendly Asian woman who spoke perfect American English. They bought their usual – chai latte for Karen and what Matt called ‘the reverse lactose intolerantorian’ which was just fancy Matt speak for warm milk.

Then they set off for the park, hand in hand, getting slightly drunk over how sleepy they were getting. They were like toddlers, if toddlers were ever in love once. They knew the way off by heart now – they’ve walked from the tea place to the park nearly every day since they’ve begun rehearsal together. So it was since the thirty-sixth lamp they walked past did they come to a park bench, and Karen’s speech about how butterflies were huge flirts and should be called slutterflies came to an end.

“Listen, Kaz, can we sit down for a bit?” Matt said. Karen nodded and sat, like a giddy child. Matt sat next to her, and watched the breath come out of her slightly parted lips that had gone a pale purple in the cold.

“Matt, what’s wrong?” She asked, when all he had done was take deep breaths and look between her lips and eyes.

“Kaz, uh Karen…” Matt said, looking down at his lap, where his fingers were playing with each other. He really didn’t know how to say this; it was like the words were stuck in his throat, but they were too big for his mouth.

“Hey.” Karen said, putting down her drink and taking Matt’s face in her hands. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Her eyes were worried, and Matt just didn’t want to put her in this position.

“Karen I’m in love with you.” He blurted out.

For a while all he heard was the whistling of the wind through the trees and Karen and his quiet breathing. Karen’s expression was blank, but her eyes glanced between his eyes, darting left and right.

Then Karen leant in and crashed her lips against his, the anxious motions mimicking what Matt has been feeling inside all this time. It was something that said _yes, finally_. And then Karen withdrew and Matt felt a pang of disappointment because _no_ he didn’t want it to end and he didn’t want her to withdraw, probably ever. Because he’s had a taste of Karen now and there was just something about the taste of her that he couldn’t get enough of. He had leant in and Karen had leant back, making Matt taste air and the soft whiff of Karen’s hair conditioner.

“Oh my god I’ve waited so long.” Karen muttered before she kissed him again, her soft lips wanting more with each movement. She was now nearly crawling over Matt, her arms at either side, and guiding Matt to lie down flat on the bench. Matt couldn’t believe his luck, because this gorgeous fantastic girl was probably just as into him as he was into her, judging by how she was kissing him.

All of Matt’s senses were overwhelmed because he could feel Karen’s warm, solid body pressing on him, and his hands were allowed to roam and linger in places that weren’t appropriate during practice. They settled for her arse, and Karen moaned into his mouth – this was by far the sexiest inside joke he has ever had.

When Karen’s tongue lashed against his bottom lip Matt felt his mind tingle, and he opened his mouth, almost leaning up to kiss her again. His entire inside was fuzzy, like someone had shook him and hadn’t opened the cap yet – there was the hint of teeth on his lips every now and then, and their kiss felt hot and insistent, like if they ever stopped making out they never would again, so they must savour it. Every movement spurred them on and when Karen began to calm down and their kisses became deep and meaningful, Matt felt his stomach grow hot.

“Kaz,” He managed between a kiss, and Karen immediately backed off.

“What is it?”

Matt gave her a wry smile. “Are we just gonna make out on this park bench at –“he checked his watch. “– three in the morning?”

Karen shrugged and grinned. “Is there something wrong with that?” Matt chuckled and raised his top half, kissing her on the nose.

“Does this mean that you love me too?”

“Fuck yes.” Karen almost growled with a smile before she kissed him again. Matt smiled into the kiss, hooked a hand under her legs and back and flipped her, so he was lying on her instead. Then Karen started laughing, and Matt gave up, and sat up and laughed with her.

“Oh my god I can’t breathe I think I’m dying.” She laughed, curling her legs and rolling onto her side. Matt laughed too, and brushed her red hair from her face. He rubbed circles on her calf until she calmed down, and she stood and kissed him on the cheek. Then she put out a hand.

“How far is it to your flat?” Karen asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. Matt grinned.

“Actually it’s just down the road.” He put two fingers and making a walking motion. “About five minutes walk.”

Karen’s face softened. “But you always walked me home.”

Matt stood and put a finger through the hair near Karen’s face, tucking it behind her ear. “I just wanted you to be safe, I guess.” Karen smiled and reached up to take his hand, and kissed him again. But it was deep and sweet, and almost escalated into something more saucy until Karen broke it again and grinned.

“Come on!” She taunted, running down to the walk way and gesturing to race. Matt laughed and pointed the other way.

“It’ll be easier to win if you go in the right direction.” He called. An embarrassed Karen came cantering back, holding her face in her hands.

“Oh my god, you’re not allowed to tease me for this.” She said, smiling between her fingers. Matt kissed her fingers, taking one hand, and walked her to his flat.

“It’s not clean at the moment, so you’re not allowed to tease _me_ for this.” He grinned at her as he put his keys in. Karen smiled back and made crosses over her heart. They went in, and Matt was about to turn on the light, but Karen stopped him and kissed his jaw.

“Which way to the bedroom, handsome?” She taunted seductively in the dark, her hands trailing up his arms. Matt smiled, turned her around and gave her a gentle push in the direction of his bedroom. She began to take off an article of clothing with every few steps, leaving a trail of clothes down the kitchen and into the hallway. He hadn’t closed the curtains before leaving the house this afternoon, so the moon came in at sporadic intervals, trailing across his floor and providing dim lighting.

First she kicked off a shoe, then its sister, and then unwound her scarf and dropped it on the floor. Her bag sat on the counter by the door, as well as Matt, who watched her walk past panels of moonlight, less clothed with each time he saw a flash of her. She then shed her sweater, revealing a black dress underneath, instead of the top and skirt he had guessed. She slowly unzipped it, and let it drop to the floor by her feet. Then she turned and looked at Matt, and gestured with her hand, standing there in her underwear and stockings. The moonlight from his bedroom had been concentrated to exit through his door, so Matt got a really good view of basically everything. He was sure he heard a protest in his pants that sounded like _let me out damnit_.

“Come on big boy, it’s cold in this flat and I’m completely naked.” Karen called from his bedroom moments after she went in.

Matt grinned and jumped, trying to take off everything in the distance from his front door to his bedroom. “You’re such a tease, Kaz!” Matt called as he struggled with his shirt. It came up halfway on his face, before it got snagged on his nose. Matt wanted to cut nose holes in all his shirts. He ripped it off, ignoring the slight complain from the cartilage on his nose, and continued his beeline towards his bedroom.

“Hello beautiful.” He breathed as he got to the door, and he smiled at Karen. And Karen smiled back.

**Nsfw from here on in:**

The moon was caressing her curves as she lay sideways on his bed, a single pale sheet between her skin and his lips. He was down to his underwear now – underwear he would gladly shed because it was just so uncomfortable – and he hopped onto the bed, straddling her as she rolled onto her back. She put an arm around his arm and another on his face, and rose slightly off the bed to kiss him, her tongue not as much begging for entrance as it was demanding it.

But Matt was preoccupied. He had moved his lips around her face, kissing the slant of her nose, and her eyelids, and pressing kisses to her ears like he was whispering a secret. Karen giggled and then laughed.

“Matt I’m ticklish!” She squealed. Matt chuckled and continued to kiss her, now moving down along her jaw. His hands had been at Karen’s waist, but now they moved up, his dull fingernails trailing along her toned stomach, eliciting a groan from Karen when they cupped her breasts. Karen tilted her head slight back into the pillows as a reflex, and Matt began to kiss down the column of her neck, the flesh there soft and warm. He left open mouthed kisses there, leaving a wet trail which he then blew on and made Karen shiver.

“Oh shit.” Was all she whispered, and her voice was wobbly. Matt kissed down her chest, and sucked along her collarbones, and they were giving him leverage as they hollowed out when Karen gasped. Then he kissed her shoulders and her toned arms before he moved past her breasts – which he was still giving attention to with his hands – and kissed down her stomach, stopping after he had sucked a thick long line along both her hipbones.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” He gasped when he came back up again and kissed her breasts, and Karen giggled.

“Your nose tickles me.” She laughed, her legs tightening around his waist from the laughter. “It’s digging in and it tickles.”

“Oh shut up.” Matt chuckled as he kissed her again.

“Careful of the nose!” Karen said between kisses, smiling. “Now are you going to do me or are you going to make out with a naked girl like some gay teenage boy.”

Matt chuckled and went down to suck on her hip, dangerously close to a place where he could make Karen scream. “Don’t tempt me.”

“What are you gonna do?” Karen asked quietly; her voice dark but she had a wry smile on her face and her eyes had a glint to it. Matt roamed back up Karen’s body, his breath whispering over every inch and curve of its pale anatomy until he reached her lips. Then he kissed her and Karen delved wholeheartedly into it, their tongues massaging slowly against each other. Matt’s hand went down but he didn’t touch Karen, because he didn’t want her to know until the last second.

He put his finger down, and it landed on Karen’s clit with uncanny precision, and Karen arched her back, groaning loudly.

“Oh fuck, Matthew, just get in me now.” She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair as he began to rub circles against her with his finger. Karen’s body shivered beneath him, and her breathing became rapid, and small moans escaped her mouth when he pressed a little harder.

Karen closed her eyes and leant her head back, and panted, moaning. Matt smiled and kissed her neck, his other hand massaging slowly against her breast. Then one of Karen’s hands went down too and grabbed hold of Matt’s hard length complaining against his underwear, and gave a pleasurable – borderline painful – tug. Matt gasped loudly; his breath hitching in his throat.

“If you don’t get in me right now I swear I will rip your dick off and fuck myself with it.” Karen growled, but her sentence ended in a whine as Matt’s finger started again, more insistent. Then Matt’s finger slowed, and he leant in next to Karen’s ear.

“Kaz, I think the condoms are in the bathroom.” He whispered. Karen groaned in frustration – both because his finger had stopped and because now Matt would have to leave.

“Fine, but hurry.” She said, giving him a deep and affectionate kiss.

Matt smiled, pecked her on the nose and peeled himself from her. He trotted down the hall into his bathroom, rummaged through some drawers and was just about to weep because he thought he didn’t have any condoms and tonight was never going to happen when he pushed aside some panadol and there was a box. He remembered that box; his friend Arthur had given it to him as a joke some weeks ago as a joke – joke’s on him, Matt grinned. He was about to open the box before he stopped, shrugged and took the entire thing with him. When Karen saw him with the box she burst into laughter.

“Planning ahead are we?” She laughed. Matt shrugged and put the box on the counter.

“It’s Sunday tomorrow so I assumed we needed all of them.” He smiled and kissed her, looping his leg around her waist to straddle her again. But Karen pushed him back.

“Hang on.” She said, and Matt shrugged – _What?_ “Take your knickers off first, you big girl.” Karen teased, flicking the band of his underwear. “How’d you expect to give me a proper good shag with that tent on?”

Matt rolled his eyes and stood, sliding his underwear down until it could fall to his feet by itself, his erection springing forward. Karen’s eyes simply lit up and her tongue unconsciously tracked over her bottom lip.

“My my, aren’t I a lucky girl?” She smiled mischievously with half hooded eyes, tracing a finger along the base of his penis before flicking the head, making him twitch. “And aren’t you a big big boy.” She said with a tone like a school teacher. Somehow that just turned Matt on more, but he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not that was immoral and wrong though, because Karen had taken a condom packet, ripped it open, and popped the condom in her mouth like chewing gum.

“Come here.” She gestured him to come forward. The bed made it perfect for Karen to eye his dick when she leant on her elbows, but Matt was a little confused.

“What are you doing?”

Karen smiled. “Trust me.”

Slowly, Matt edged forward, and Karen readjusted herself on her elbows. Then, when he was close enough, she reached out and grasped his penis – which made Matt moan – before taking him in with one swift motion.

Matt’s knees nearly gave because Karen’s mouth was wet and warm, and he felt a fire roar in the pit of his stomach. He groaned loudly and leant against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Then Karen took him out of her mouth, all slicked up, and as if by a miracle, the condom was on. Karen had rolled it on with her mouth – and the girl was fantastic because – the condom had almost his the end.

“Now then,” Karen said, taking Matt’s hand and edging back slightly so Matt could climb back into bed. “Time to have some fun.” She purred.

It was a flurry of sheets and limbs at the wrong place at the wrong time (mostly Matt’s) but eventually they were in a comfortable position, with Matt lying over Karen and her red hair billowed out on his pillows.

“Are you ready?” Matt whispered, and Karen nodded, reaching down so things were lined up. Matt kissed Karen on the neck and thrust in, eliciting a moan from both of them.

“Oh fuck.” Matt breathed against Karen’s neck, burying his face into the soft flesh there.

“Matt,” Karen gasped, her fingers running along in his hair. “Move.”

“What?”

“For the love of god, move.” She groaned, raising her hips slightly so Matt’s dick slid out. The friction made Matt and Karen both sigh heavily, but Matt understood her, and drew out. He pushed back in and she gasped, _oh yes_ and he slowly built up a consistent rhythm.

It was like they were dancing – they were in synch, in their own little world, where no one could interrupt them. And it was so amazing because it was Karen who was touching him right now, her warmth under him and around him and everywhere inside his heart and his mind. It was Karen whose red hair was splashed across his pillows. It was Karen’s nails that dug into his skin and left raw red lines on his back. It was Karen who was moaning and gasping underneath him, enjoying every moment of it.

“Matt,” She gasped, kissing his jaw and then his nose. “Matt you beautiful soul. Oh my god.” She threw her head back and raised her hand, pressing against the headboard for some leverage. She climaxed like a ballerina would – graceful and in an absolutely beautiful state. Matt slowed as he felt her muscles clamp down on him with a delicious tightness, and her hips were rolling with the contractions and she was flushed and screaming moans and she was _oh so beautiful_.

Matt felt the coil in his stomach snap and he came too, groaning and burying his face into the pillow next to Karen, strands of her hair caressing his face. He snapped the condom from his length and dropped it in the bin before lying back onto the bed again, exhausted.

“Oh my god.” Karen whispered, turning and placing a hand on his cheek. “We are doing that again tomorrow.”

Matt smiled and nodded, kissing her languidly. Right now, they had a mutual understanding that they were tired and wanted to sleep. He wound an arm around Karen’s waist and Karen snuggled into him, filling every empty part of him he had slept with since he was young, and then some more, and when Matt opened his eyes again, it was morning.


	2. Heaven take my bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me lots and lots of painstaking hours so if it seems a bit rushed it really isn't that's just how I write. I'd like to thank Teagan for her help as to what the whole 'jeopardy' would be, and hope you have a good time reading this chapter.

Matt figured he had fallen in love with Karen every time he saw her. This right now was no exception. The sunlight floated over her half uncovered curves, the sheet only barely lying over her lower back. Her skin was irresistibly smooth, and three small freckles appeared sporadically over her back, and Matt wanted to kiss them and map them out like stars.

His hand was still laid over her waist, and he reached over, drawing shapes on her stomach with his finger. Karen stirred, and smiled.

“You awake?” She murmured. Matt pressed kisses against her shoulder.

“Yeah.” He stuffed his face into Karen’s hair, enveloping himself with her smell and not relenting until all he saw was ginger. Karen giggled.

“Stop it, that tickles.” She turned so she was facing Matt, one of her hands laid on his neck. “Hey, I was thinking,” she said softly. “maybe we should go back today to practice, just in case.”

Matt sighed. “I guess you’re right, I mean we’ve still got to get those _jetes_ in control, not to mention that we have to go through the last part without you kicking me.”

“That happened once.” Karen said, her eyebrows raised in a way that almost looked like _it wasn’t even that bad you big baby_. So Matt hopped out of bed to take a quick shower and he came out with a towel around his waist and his hair dripping wet. Karen had her underwear and bra on already, and her stockings in one hand. She was looking around the room like she had lost a puppy. She was like a porcelain doll – her skin was pale and her body was that of ballet dancer’s; toned and you could see graceful strength with every movement.

“Kaz, your clothes are in the hall, remember?” Matt said and shook his head like a wet dog. Karen squealed as the cold water hit her fresh out of bed skin, making her skin tingle.

“Oh come here,” Matt growled, smiling as he rubbed his hands in his hair and ran towards Karen, pouncing and grabbing her from behind, almost swinging her off her feet, hugging her tightly. Karen screamed and laughed, Matt’s cold hands on the warm soft skin of her toned stomach making the tingles burst into fireworks. Matt lost his balance and toppled onto the bed with Karen on top of him.

Karen hummed contentedly against his chest, kissing him before getting up and running into the hall to get her clothes. “We’ve got to grab lunch first though,” she yelled from the kitchen. Matt laughed and stood, getting dressed too – of course, he was quicker than Karen, and even managed to dry his hair completely as well before she was fully dressed. She was pulling on her sweater when he walked out, and rummaged in her bag for her purse.

“Oh shoot, I can’t find my wallet.” She muttered. Matt drank some water, walking over to her bag. Karen was taking everything out – her phone, her drink bottle, a bottle of hand sanitizer, some mints – which matt took one of, since he figured they were going to skip brushing their teeth this morning – and her reading glasses; small oval shaped things in a dark case.

“I didn’t know you needed these.” He took them out and gazed through them – it made things look clearer and Matt became just a little bit worried.

“Yeah, I’ve had them for a while. It’s nothing serious; it just makes the world a little brighter.” Karen said, dumping the rest of the content of her bag onto the counter, and her wallet wasn’t there. Matt smiled and kissed the side of her head, and Karen tried not to freak out.  

“Okay, well we’ll just have to drop by my apartment and pick up some cash … and maybe change my clothes.” Karen muttered, but smiled when Matt kissed her head again and nodded, doing up her jacket fully so it looked like she was wearing a different outfit. So it was when they bumped into Ms Claire in the street did Matt really push Karen’s whole _I need new clothes for today_ thing.

“Matthew?” Ms Claire had asked, recognising him even with the distance, with a smile on her face that said _Oh Matthew you devilish devil!_

“Miss Claire!” Matt laughed, running up to hug her. It wasn’t weird for them to do this; some days Matt would spend hours talking to her after class if he had some dance stuff to discuss. Sometimes it wasn’t even dance stuff.

“Is that Karen?” She whispered in his ear with a tone that said _tell me you did what I expected of you Matthew_.

“Yeah, hold on,” He turned around. “Hey Kaz, come here!” He hollered, and Karen reluctantly trotted over, smiling shyly. Matt suddenly grabbed her shoulders and put her square in front of Ms Claire. “Karen’s wearing the same clothes!” He yelled, laughing. “She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday!”

“No! No!” Karen complained, squirming and trying to get away from him but failing and smiling. “No! Oh damn you I thought I was going to get away with it!” She yelled, laughing. Ms Claire laughed too, batting her hand.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t judge.” She said. She knew. She knew what they’d been up to. They didn’t even have to say it out loud. The flush in Karen’s cheeks and the sheepish look on Matt’s face said it all without abandon. She smiled, said that she will be expecting them to be the epitome of perfection in class tomorrow, and went on her way to buy more legwarmers. Karen burst into laughter after she was out of earshot, and Matt laughed along with her. Karen punched him in the arm.

“What did you do that for?” She laughed, half annoyed and half amused. “God you’re so embarrassing Smith.”

“Says the person wearing the same clothes as yesterday.” Matt grinned. Karen punched him again and then squealed in pain and Matt was suddenly very worried and kissed her hand and Karen laughed.

They talked the whole way to Karen’s flat, and the interior made Karen even more perfect to Matt. She hadn’t been there that long; it was a short term contract, but Karen had somehow settled in – even with the boxes littering the floor and unwashed dishes in the sink. Not just unwashed dishes either, because Matt picked up a measuring cup with a little bit of pasta and a fork in it. Karen had even taken to drinking her soup from cups and eating from every available utensil; there was what looked like ice-cream residue in a champagne flute and lasagne in a jar.

Matt decided to ignore that and wander around her flat. She had a few photos in her living room and dining room – probably her parents and what looked like maybe a teacher – she was middle aged, had curly blonde hair and a smile that seemed to be full of brilliant secrets. Matt felt like he recognised her.  There was one of her as a child and doing ballet, one of what looked like her a grey dog and her and another girl. He could almost see Karen growing up through these photographs; her as a child in Scotland with her friends and in school, practicing ballet and not eating her vegetables.

“Matt?” He heard her call. “Could you come here for a second?”

He followed the voice deep into the flat, like following a siren into the darkness. There was a hint of an alluring smell in the house, one that reminded him of Karen. He felt like he was outside and it had just started raining, and he felt like sniffing this smell for the rest of his life. Hopefully with Karen, he can.

Karen’s bedroom was at the end of a hall with a window, the sunlight filtering through. He could hear Karen humming, a song that he didn’t recognise. She had her back to him, and she was wearing a purple dress. She turned her head to look at him, and she smiled, pinning her hair up.

“Can you do me up?” She asked softly. Matt slowly and gently walked over, reaching for the zip and doing up the dress. She turned and it had a loop neck, with the sleeves ending in a panel that let a keyhole sized hole sit just below the collar. It was the colour of red wine at dusk, deep purple like an elderly rose, like brown and violet clashed together in a marriage of perfect harmony, encasing Karen’s flawless skin.

“It’s for the premier.” She whispered, her lips inches from his, but neither making a move. Yet.

“What premier?” Matt replied. Karen Eskimo kissed him and laughed quietly.

“Ms Claire didn’t tell you?” She murmured, her lips enticingly close and wavering this way and that, but always not close enough. “We have to attend some fancy premier before we present the Nutcracker, you know. To promote it.”

Matt groaned. “Do I have to dress up?”

“Oh yes Matthew. You’ll have to dress real nice and proper, with a suit and tie and everything.” Karen giggled, her hand moving up his arms when she said _suit_. Matt smiled – if it meant that it’ll entertain Karen, he’ll most likely do it.

Karen only pecked him – to his disappointment – and asked him to get her out of it so she could dress properly to go get lunch. Matt unzipped her, kissing the line of where the zip left, and stayed there while Karen changed. She wore simple stuff – a striped top and jeans, black oxfords and a green cardigan. She grabbed a thick quilted tan jacket on the way out, wrapping her arms around Matt’s arm and hugging to resist from the cold. Matt had on a black coat too, and he flipped the collar up from the wind.

“I want to eat in the park.” She said when they were walking down the street, not really sure of where they were heading but knowing that they would have to go to rehearse later tonight anyway. “I don’t know where it looks like in daylight.” She smiled, taking Matt’s hand. “I want to eat in the park.”

So it was by pure chance that this place next to the park sold sandwiches, and they picked up the most magnificent sandwiches they have ever tasted. Karen had commented _Oh my god it’s like an orgasm in my mouth_ followed by Matt’s _I’m really flattered by that I mean wow_.

They were sitting on a grassy green hill, and after they had bought their piping hot coffee and talked about how maybe birds were only screaming because they were scared of heights and then how weird fingers were, Karen pulled out a battered book. It was a pink edition of Roald Dahl’s _Matilda,_ and Karen said she was going to read it to Matt, because it was her favourite and because education purposes. She had to wear her glasses too, and after lots of affectionate teasing, Matt took the glasses and read the book out to her instead.

Karen leant into him, closing her eyes and listening to the soft sound of Matt’s voice.

“ _“Come along, my dear,” Miss Honey called back, and Matilda followed her up the path._ ”Matt’s voice went up an octave when he went to imitate the sweet teacher. Karen giggled softly under her breath.

“ _The front-door was covered with flaky green paint and there was no keyhole. Miss Honey simply lifted the latch and pushed open the door and went in. Although she was not a tall woman, she had to stoop low to get through the doorway. Matilda went after her and found herself in what seemed to be a dark and narrow tunnel._

“ _“You can come through to the kitchen and help me make the tea,” Miss Honey said,_ ” was all Matt got up to, because a large golden Labrador had bounded onto them, his tongue dripping and panting and his tail wagging like a windshield wiper. Karen laughed because Matt squealed like a girl, and the dog tried to lick her.

“Buster!” A woman called from the path, in jogging uniform. “I’m so sorry,” She called as the dog got off them, but only stared at his owner happily. Karen laughed, her nose crinkling in that way that Matt loves.

“It’s fine!” She called back, and the dog ran back on cue. Matt just watched the dog from around his shoulder, with his eyebrows raised. The woman jogged on, the dog now obediently beside her in step. Matt passed the book back to Karen, but kept the glasses on.

“Look at this mess.” He said, raising his arms and showing her the coffee stains on their jackets. Karen just giggled and straightened the leaking cups.

“Aw you know what this means, don’t you?” Karen said. Matt groaned.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to your flat to change again.”

Karen smiled both apologetically and deviously. “I have to! Unless you want me to leave this coat stained like this and ruin it.” Then with her puppy eyes on full voltage, she softly murmured; “I love it by the way.”

Matt sighed, running his hand through his hair, and nodded. Karen smiled and kissed him on the forehead, packing her belongings up and standing up and offering her hand. Then they strolled back to her flat, hand in hand this time since the wind had died down.

When they got to the flat they realized the stains soaked through nearly all of their clothing, but they just shrugged and threw it all in the washing machine. Then Matt kind of pressed up to Karen with his hands on her waist like _hey we’re practically naked so you know we basically have to shag_.

Karen smiled dotingly at Matt, her eyebrows rising as her arm brushed his. She slowly shook her head, maintaining eye contact and giving him a look that said _now now Matthew_. Matt was so completely overwhelmed by the colour of Karen’s eyes and her skin against his and the slight disappointment that Karen had gently shot him down that he wasn’t watching where her hand was going and Karen whacked him in the face. The pillow was soft, but Karen was a hard hitter, and it threw Matt off balance and back onto the hallway carpet.

Matt groaned, but immediately jumped to his feet, reaching for Karen. She screamed and ran down the hallway past him, into the living room. Matt laughed and ran after her, growling like a tiger. Karen giggled as she ran around the edge of the coffee table and Matt stopped, not sure whether to go left and right. Karen feigned for left and darted right, Matt’s long limbs not able to catch up to his torso as he tried to jerk in the direction of Karen. But his hand managed to swing over just in time to grab a pillow and to place it into Karen’s path, hitting her with a muffled squeal.

Karen laughed and hit him, and Matt retaliated, making her hair billow out in the rush of air. The pillows went back and forth across their bodies, laughter and screams echoing around the flat. At one point Karen just fell onto her couch face down exhausted, holding the pillow over her head.

“I give up!” She yelled, her voice muffled. “I surrender.” She twisted around and the doonas on her couch were wrangled to the floor. Matt sat crossed legged on the ground next to the couch, playing with one of the ends.

“Oh my god.” Karen said, frowning and turning her head. “Your pants are really ugly.” Her body turned too, her legs bending and the doonas being pushed further down. She reached out and poked his stomach. “Are those cows?”

Matt glanced down and realized that he was wearing his laundry day pants – the only surviving article from that embarrassing packet his mother had sent him last year. Yes, it was cows, the black and white mottles were sporadically splashed across his bulge. Matt wasn’t embarrassed, but he was suddenly very aware that they were still in their underwear. He reached out too and traced a finger across Karen’s bra, the orange fabric giving under his fingertip. Karen gazed at him absentmindedly, her hand moving up to run through his hair, and her eyes roamed over his face, like she was trying to memorize every feature. Like she was trying to memorize the colour of his eyes. The shape of his nose. The arc of his lips.

“We should build forts.” Her eyes suddenly lit up, looking past over Matt’s head. Matt frowned, turned to look and saw chairs scattered across the floor that they had pushed there as they were battling each other with their padded bolsters.

“Forts!” He smiled wide, scrabbling up to grab a chair. “We should build forts.” He grinned. The washing machine beeped loudly, marking the end of its cycle, so Karen had to put everything into the dryer before they could start.

All the doonas on the couch and all the blankets from Karen’s bed – and a doily from one of her boxes she found – later, they had finally finished the fort. It was beautiful; red, green, dark blue and grey doonas sheltered by white blankets and sheets on all sides created the tent. The door was a clean dishcloth Karen had dug from the pantry, and the doily sat neat and flat at the entrance, like a welcome mat. Karen grinned and got on her hands and knees, crawling into the fort. Her behind wriggled in the grey cotton briefs as she crawled in, and Matt couldn’t help but give her steady pat, making her gasp, and then laugh. When she was fully in she reached through the dishcloth and pulled Matt in, gently guiding him as if he was blind.

The inside was dim, but Matt could still make out every inch of Karen’s features. The pillows were piled in the middle, and another blanket had been lain out. Karen threw it over both of their bodies, snuggling into Matt, her breath hot on the inside of his neck.

“Tell me a story.” Karen whispered. Her arms were around Matt’s torso, her smooth right leg planted in between his, her thigh a warm presence against his groin that was more pleasant than arousing. Matt kissed the top of her head, playing with a strand of her hair.

“There once was an old, old man.”

“How old?” Karen whispered, her voice softer.

“Very old. As old as the universe.” Matt paused. “About 1800 years old in our years.” He felt Karen’s lips curl in a smile against his collar bone, and he continued. “And he flew around the universe in a … big blue box.”

“A box?” Karen’s quietening voice hitched slightly in a question.

“A police telephone box,” Matt said after some consideration. “from 1968.”

“How specific.” Karen said, sighing lightly.

“Yeah, it’s a time machine. It can travel through time and space, actually. It’s a time-travelling space ship.” Matt chewed his lip. “Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. TARDIS. That’s the box’s name.”

Karen’s breathing was now quiet and steady, and her voice was drawled and dreamy. “He must be very wrinkled.”

“No, he’s quite handsome.” Matt said quietly, running his fingers through her hair. “He’s like a phoenix. He can be born again; every time he gets old he just turns into another young man. He has sidekicks too, like Batman does.”

“I want to be a sidekick.” Karen’s voice was almost too quiet to hear. Matt smiled and kissed the top of her head again, patting her.

“Of course you can be, you can be the most important one.” He said. “You can be my sidekick.” He fell asleep to the rhythm of Karen’s soft breathing, and Karen had long ago fallen asleep to the sound of Matt’s heart beat, dreaming of a young old man flying around in space and time in a big blue box.

They both woke with the telephone ringing, Karen waking with a start and Matt opening his eyes groggily and groaning. Crawling out of the tent was hard, because their limbs were all soft from their sleep together, and Karen’s elbows kept giving as she was crawling out of the door.

“Hello?” Karen said after she had frantically reached the phone, her feet thudding on the floor. “Oh mum, yeah. No I’m fine, sorry I just had a nap, I must’ve forgotten.”

Matt made faces at her and Karen waved a hand to get him to stop, silently laughing. “No yeah, it’s great. Yeah I’m wearing enough out in this weather, yes I’ve been drinking water. What? No mum I haven’t gained weight – no I haven’t weighed myself but I’m pretty su – yeah I’ve been eating my vegetables. No he’s nice, he’s really great.” Karen glanced at Matt and smiled slightly. “Matt, Smith. He’s the principal male dancer of the company too.”

Matt did a grand bow and Karen grinned. “Yeah.” Karen’s smile widened. “Yes, he is very fit. Very hot yes.” Matt smiled and went over, winding his arms around her waist. Karen squirmed gently, twisting so Matt was behind her. “Yeah, of course I’ll call you tomorrow. No I can’t come back for  Christmas, the shows are on then. I’ll just have to spend it with the group. Yes I’ll send you a present. Mhmm,” Karen had tried to contain her laughter because Matt had started to blow raspberries against her neck. “Listen mum I’ve got to – ha – I’ve got to go I’ve –I’ve got a rehearsal and I’m late, I love you! Bye!” She slammed the receiver down and laughed out loud finally, squealing and bringing her shoulders up to try and get away from Matt.

“Your skin is so soft,” Matt groaned, chuckling.

“Yeah thanks, but I think we’d better put our clothes back on, it’s – it’s eight in the afternoon, Matt. We –“ Her stomach growled at this and Karen laughed out the rest of the sentence. “ – _need_ dinner.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak and Karen answered his question before he could say it. “No we’re not going to stay here and eat, because unless you want very old instant ramen eaten with your fingers I say we eat out.” Matt smiled and kissed her, then said something like _lead the way, queen of clean, dry clothes. Lead me to my garments, mistress._

After Matt had gotten dressed and Karen had her bag ready for the rehearsal, they had to get back to Matt’s flat to grab his things. They had been used to the running around between each other’s flats – it felt like the only route they had taken their whole lives. They grabbed their drinks from the nice Asian lady, wandering past the darkening park before they did, Karen noting how if they were in a horror movie she would want to get murdered in there – to die in a set scene is better to die in no scene at all.

It was ten at night when they had got to the rehearsal studio, after having a delightful evening meal of Chinese and tea. The receptionist – Martha, bid them good night, leaving them the keys as per usual. They rehearsed, talked, ate some fortune cookies, rehearsed some more and – to be honest – had quite a brilliant snog session. Karen was up for it and Matt – as long as the other person was willing – was always up for it. They didn’t bother fooling around more than that though, because Karen said she wanted to explore London at night while no one was around, even after Matt’s arguments that there could be muggers and druggies and rapists. Karen assures him that if there were rapists that she promises to protect him.

Matt chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, walking over to his bag. “So we’re doing that then? Walking the streets of London on a darkened night? Like marauders of times of deep and dark unknown?” Karen laughed and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Don’t make us sound so cheesy, I mean business, you know.” She smiled. “You still have to show me around London – I am still just a tourist after all.”

“Do I get a kiss afterward?” Matt asked innocently, his smile wan.

“Sure.” Karen smiled, ruffling his hair with her free hand. “I’ll see you outside.” Then she headed off to the change rooms. Matt chuckled to himself as he flipped his hair, and picked up his bag to go get changed. When he got outside, Karen was already there.

She had her back to him and although she wore different clothes – trust Karen to stash a different outfit just to wear to explore the place at night –her cascade of soft red hair immediately cried _Karen. Karen. Karen is right here_. She wore a thick cream sweater, and a knitted scarf that covered her nose. Her hair poured over it, even though it was trapped underneath it in most parts – the front waterfalling down her shoulders, like red ribbons. Despite the snug top half, she wore a black skirt and tights on the bottom, and converse sneakers that look like it has seen better days.

“Hey, Kaz.” Matt said, sneaking up on her putting a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. She turned, smiled a smile so sweet it nearly brought Matt to his knees, and grabbed his hand. Even though she wore fingerless gloves, Matt could feel the heat from her fingers as it curled around his wrist, as she pulled him out the door, taking time to lock it and slip the key under the potted plant beside the door.

“Come on! You took ages.” Karen stood and looked up and down the street, then back at Matt. “Where to, captain?” she asked with a mischievous grin. Matt was overwhelmed with her sense of adventure; it was radiating off her in waves. So he grinned back, and pointed down the street. He knew the perfect place to take her – he had stumbled upon it one lonely night in London his first year there.

They walked down the street, and a few steps in Matt felt Karen slip her hand into his palm. Her hands were smaller than his, and instead of threading their fingers together, he simply closed his fingers around her hand, so her fingers were curled into a soft fist. It was like that they walked down the street, hand in hand.

Whenever they came to crossing a street or crossroads, Karen would stand still because she wouldn’t know which direction to go in. Then Matt would give her a gentle tug down the street toward the right direction and they would be off again. Karen had asked him if they could do that thing from the Notebook where they lie on the ground in the middle of the road, and Matt had agreed wholeheartedly – if it wasn’t part of his bucket list then it was now, and he could say he had done it. He had lain his coat out for her, to keep her hair and body dry – she had asked him to lie on it with her anyway, because she felt bad, and they’d lain in the street for a bit, talking about stars and how things are always, _always_ further than they seem. Then some bloke drove down, nearly ran them over and yelled at them that they were _crazy bastards_. Karen yelled back in just as aggravated Scottish, and the guy drove away.

It wasn’t long before Karen’s keen eyes spotted the thing Matt was leading her towards the whole time. It was kind of obvious; really, because the whole time Matt had been telling her about silly stuff like _this is a building. People probably live in it. That’s a bank. People in that building probably work in this bank. Do you reckon they have boring lives? That’s a fire hydrant, keeps the people in both buildings safe from a fiery death, and also makes small dogs with small bladders happy when they’re in need of one. That’s a tree. Big dogs probably pee in that, the fire hydrant would be inadequate._ But when they had neared the building, Matt had just stopped talking altogether, waiting for Karen’s reaction.

It was a toy store. It was huge, and looked pretty ancient, like something long lost but not forgotten. Karen put a hand on the wooden beams with the fading blue paint. “A big blue box.” She breathed, glancing at Matt and Matt giving her a wry smile. The name sign was half eaten away by the weather, the pain stripped and cracked, but next to the faded letters there was a tin soldier. The warm light shone out from the windows, and when Karen looked at him with wonder, Matt just said. “Twenty-four hours.”

There was a bell on the door and everything, and when Karen opened the door it rang, scaring her slightly, but in a good way because it just made her more excited. She had looked at Matt with a look of joy on her face and mouthed _there’s a bell, Matt. A bell_.

There were huge shelves in that shop, and the light came from candle coloured light hanging from the ceiling. It gave the whole shop a magical look, like stars were twinkling between every air molecule. There wasn’t anyone manning the cashier’s desk, but there was a clerk’s bell and lots of files and receipts lain out on the counter.

“Let’s play a game.” Karen murmured, and her hand slid out of his grasp. “Close your eyes.”

Matt smiled, complied, and he felt Karen’s hands placed gingerly on either side of his face. She tilted his head slightly down, and then a pair of soft lips was pressed against his left eyelid. Then Karen kissed his right eyelid, and then she pressed a long light kiss on his lips, like a ghost whispering over him.

“Count to ten.” She whispered, and then her hands and lips were gone. It was a while before Matt could open his eyes, because he wanted to give Karen fair game and also because he felt wobbly in the knees. The shop was large, but Matt had been here many times before. He walked slowly along the rows, running a finger amongst the wooden shelves. He heard a laugh, whipped dramatically around, grinning.

“Oh where are you?” He said, his voice low and playful. Another laugh made him turn around again, and this time he headed into the shelves, where it was darker. “Kaz,” He whispered; hissed.

“Yes?” He heard, down the rows. He cut across the shelves, peering into the darkness.

“Kaz.”

Suddenly there were her fingers grasped around his collar, and it wretched him into one of the rows, throwing him against herself against the shelf. She kissed him hard, and suddenly her hands were everywhere. Matt jumped wholeheartedly into it, pulling her scarf off and groaning into their kiss when Karen pushed herself against him, making him press her harder into the shelves.

“Yeah,” Karen gasped when he started to kiss down her neck, the speed with which clothes were being shed impressive. “Yes, oh Matt.”

Matt moaned into her neck, and Karen reached down to fumble with his pants. Matt had managed to unbutton her blouse with his teeth, and he was now nibbling down her right breast. Karen just groaned louder, her hips rocking against Matt’s.

“Matt,” She gasped, her nails raking against his bare shoulder as he threw off his T-shirt. Matt kissed her again, his tongue trailing against her lips. Their breath was ridiculously hot, washing over their skin and intensifying everything.

 “Oh my god.” Matt almost hissed when Karen stuck her hand into his trousers and over his silly cow pants, palming him roughly. Matt groaned low, loud and frustratingly – there wasn’t enough of her skin on him, and he just wanted their clothes out of the way. Then there was a loud cough at the end of the row and Karen whipped her hand back out, making Matt whine.

“Who’s there?” The voice said, and a torch was shone down the aisle. Karen quickly pulled her blouse back over her shoulder while Matt shielded his eyes from the light. “Matthew?” The voice said.

“Oh, Mr Owens. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here, yeah uh – we’re just gonna –“

“Get dressed, yeah.” Mr Owens said chuckling quietly, and shuffled back away from aisle. Karen glared at Matt, buttoning up her shirt. Matt just smiled and shrugged, groping around for his shirt. They scooted to the front desk, with Karen tagging along shyly behind him. The ‘Mr Owens’ in question was short, stout, and built not unlike a teapot. He was elderly, but had a genuine smile. He smiled when Matt walked out, and took Karen’s hand, leading her up to the counter.

“So Matthew, introduce me to your new friend.” Mr Owens said, smiling and his eyes twinkling. Matthew chuckled awkwardly and pointed to Karen.

“Yeah. This is Karen.” Karen waved shyly, smiling wanly. “She’s the prima ballerina playing Clara for our company’s Nutcracker.” Matt said. Mr Owens nodded thoughtfully, his smile hinting at something kinkier than simply landing her as a dance partner.

“Are you spending the holidays with your family, Karen?” Mr Owens asked caringly.

“No, I’ll have to spend it here because the shows span over the holidays.” Karen said, trying to sound okay with it, but the hint of sadness was still there. “I can still send mum a Christmas gift though.”

Mr Owens considered this, and then looked at Matt, who had put his arm around Karen and kissed her head, rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.  “Is it just you and your mum?” Mr Owens asked gently. Karen nodded. “Why don’t you just fly her over to watch the Christmas performance? I’m sure the dancers can reserve tickets for the show; aren’t they free for dancers?”

Karen shook her head sadly, her face dipping lower and her hair pulling across her face like curtains drawing closed at the end of a play. “Her condition isn’t well enough for travel yet.”

“Is she …” Matt’s voice was guarded.

“Yeah. She’s in hospital. Cancer. But I don’t really want to think about it like that. We try and act like it’s normal – we don’t want to be reminded that she might not be here for much longer every time we talk.” Karen said, her voice barely there and slightly broken.

“I think I have just what you need.” Mr Owens said softly and reaching under the counter. He pulled out a dusty box, the cover red with a transparent front. It was a nutcracker; a tin soldier, just like the one on the shop’s sign. It was absolutely beautiful – polished and bright, the paint in perfect condition and the package corners barely scuffed.

“I’ve had this in the shop for a while now – it hasn’t found a proper owner. I think now it’s found the right one though.” He said, handing it over to Karen, across the counter. Karen just looked at it, then at Matt, frowning.

“How much is it?” Matt said, reaching into his pocket. Mr Owens shushed him with gestures, smiling.

“It’s on the house, Matthew. Let’s just say I wanted to pay you back for all those late nights of talking with an old man whose memories are dusty.”

“Mr Owens, no really I should –“

“Matthew, just let it go. I’m not going to take your money.” Mr Owens said.

“Wel-“

“Not yours either, dear.” Mr Owens interrupted Karen. “Just take it. Give it to your mother – it’ll be like a piece of your is there with her while you perform at Christmas.”

Karen looked around the shop, then back at Mr Owens, and it looked like she just had an epiphany. “Do you have any more nutcrackers? Smaller ones?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

“No dear, but we do have tin soldiers. Come.” Mr Owens said, leading them into a darkened aisle. He found a box of tin soldiers the length of a finger, a set of twenty, all with different little guns. One had a marching band hat on. Karen laughed, demanded that she pay for these ones. Mr Owens relented and let her pay for the little ones, but packed her free nutcracker in the bag with it. Karen had also picked out a rather intricate and delicate porcelain china doll for Miss Claire.

Mr Owens packed everything into a large paper package, bundled up with string. Karen remarked how _absolutely adorable_ that was and Mr Owens replied that _not many shops do things the old way anymore. It’s a bit of a pity really._

Karen tucked it safely into her bag, and felt her lids grow heavy. Matt saw Karen dragging her feet slightly as she was walking back to the counter from the aisles and guessed, so bid Mr Owens an early night after Karen had hugged him and thanked him for the nutcracker. Karen wrapped her arms around Matt’s and walked home with half of her mind asleep. They talked quietly this time, strolling toward Matt’s flat because Matt figured Karen didn’t have any objections either way, and his apartment was closer.

They stumbled into the flat, Karen undressing clumsily and falling onto Matt’s bed with her shoes still on. Matt carefully worked her feet free of their converse homes, collecting her stuff and piling them over by the door. He slipped into bed with her, and Karen hummed contentedly as their bodies fit together, Matt gently wrapping his arms around her waist. Matt kissed her ear and whispered “Night, Kaz.” And they fell asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing, not unlike in the tent.

Matt’s alarm was set to wake him up every morning at seven, except for his for days when he got up really early to rehearse. Karen on the other hand, is used to waking up at an earlier time. She shifted uncomfortably half asleep between the hours of six and seven, waking Matt anyway. When she woke up properly she just felt crap and groggy, and lumpy and tired. She wasn’t used to nothing waking her up at six in the morning and sleeping straight through, and her body was very unimpressed with her. Matt just got up to shower, going through his regular morning routine – minus morning wank since Karen surprised him in the shower with a cheeky smile on her face – and they were due in for rehearsing anyway. Karen just pushed all of the horrible feelings pushing at her from inside deep down – mostly with pastry Matt had found in his fridge and scolding hot coffee. After about an hour of chatting in Matt’s bed speckled with flakes of food, laughing at their stupid ideas and Matt’s teasing about her ‘plural’ double chin, Karen dragged herself out of bed because class starts in half an hour. They hadn’t rehearsed this morning, but they figured that wouldn’t be too much of a bother – they had run through everything last night. She still felt a bit groggy though, as they limbered up on the barre and the floor, feeling her muscles stretch and warm and the feeling excited her, because what ensued was dancing and there’s nothing better than floating across the floor _en pointe_.

Matt felt quite regular – other than the bloated feeling those apple tarts and coffee had gave him, he felt quite refreshed and ready for the day. It wasn’t like they had anything to be worried about – they could dance the Nutcracker with their eyes closed by this point. In fact, Matt could swear he dreamt about the routine – nothing out of the ordinary, simply going through the routine again, and again, and again.

So why was it that by the time he and Karen had arrived at the studio did the feeling of bloating melt away into something he couldn’t dispel – like something big was going to happen, and he couldn't tell if it was going to be good or bad.

“Can we run through from the Snowflake scene, please? Dancers in position; Matthew, Karen.” Taking their cues from Miss Claire and their positions on the floor, they ran through the Snowflake dance in its entirety, and Matt could almost laugh at the shallow level of difficulty involved, until Miss Claire stopped the dance while Matt was in mid-air, her face troubled and almost angry.

“No, that’s not good enough. I’m sorry, can everybody take their positions again – Matthew, Karen, what is going on?” Miss Claire said, not even lowing her voice as she addressed the main dancers. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?” Karen frowned, putting her hands on her hips.

“You were like puppets! You looked like robots! There was no emotion; there was no connection. You were just empty _things_ running around swinging your arms and legs!” Miss Claire hissed.

Matt stammered. “Uh, I mean … I’m sorry I guess we’re just too used to it – um, uh well we could – we could try again?”

“You’re right we need to try again, the show goes on in less than a month, I don’t need this kind of problems right now.” She waved Matt and Karen back into their positions, and counted the dancers in.

“I need to see emotion.” Miss Claire said. “… And five, six, seven, eight.”

After what Miss Claire said, everything just felt taxing. It was like their limbs were filled with lead marbles, and having to move in the opposite direction was like dragging a mountain behind them. The problem was probably more about that they _didn’t_ know how to play connections. They didn’t know how to convey emotions and present the love between Clara and the Prince through the dance. It was ironic since they’ve basically spent every waking moment together since they had gotten together a few days ago, you’d think they would know how to act in love.

It goes without saying, by the end of the lesson and day – Miss Claire was very unsatisfied. She just looked dark and stormy and all the students stayed well clear of her, except for Matt. Matt was sort of stuck between a rock and a hard place – on one side, Miss Claire was very disappointed with the work he had done with Karen. On the other hand, Karen was also very upset about their performance.

“I can’t believe you guys just _rehearsed_!” Miss Claire was muttering at Matt, pulling out all of her jackets and scarves and legwarmers. “You’d think that you and Karen getting together would’ve helped, but _no_.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize that-“

“Didn’t realize what? That this is a _professional_ play? We are trying to convey a message, Matthew, not just toss ourselves across stage and pray that the critics enjoyed it. We started this together over five months ago, Matthew, and you looked more in love with thin air than you do with Karen there. Karen’s been here for about two months, and I didn’t want to say anything, but she hasn’t done you good. Your performance has just become more distant and stoic since she’s joined you, and I need you to show the audience that – as the Prince, you are in love with her, Clara.” Miss Claire just looked sad now, and disappointed, and Matt felt absolutely horrible.

“I’m sorry Miss Claire, I really am.” Was all Matt could get out, because Miss Claire had just taken her stuff and left, leaving Matt standing by the mirrors looking shattered.

“Hey Matt, it’ll be alright.” One of the dancers, Christopher, came over and patted Matt’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re fantastic, really!” Chris’s girlfriend, Rose, came over too. Matt tried to look grateful, but all he could think about was that Karen wasn’t comforting him. Everyone else packed up and left, but it seemed that Matt and Karen just owned too much stuff to finish. When the last person left and they heard the door slam, Karen simply walked over to Matt, rubbing her forearm as if she was itchy.

“Hey, um…”

“Yeah, that was…”

“Listen.” Karen seemed to make up her mind about something. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

“What?” Matt stood, leaving his bag open on the ground. Karen almost backed up a step, still rubbing at her forearm.

“Maybe we shouldn’t date.”

“We were dating?”

“Well, no – but you know. Whatever it was we were doing.”

“ _Whatever it was we were doing_?” Matt’s tone was almost accusing.

“I mean – just until after the performance. We’re obviously having some trouble right now, and maybe Miss Claire’s right.”

“She didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah but you could tell. I mean, what we have right now obviously doesn’t help the dance, so maybe we should ...”

“Are you – are you breaking up with me?”

“I thought we weren’t dating?”

“Are you ending whatever it was that we had?”

“No – no Matt, no Matthew.” Karen came over and put a hand on his cheek, her eyes darting between Matt’s eyes. Matt looked so worried, and tired, and sad, but Karen felt like she just _had_ to do this. “We’re just … taking a break.”

Matt didn’t say anything to any of that; he just stood there with his eyes wide like a frightened deer in the headlights, his eyes looking between Karen’s as if the answer to what Karen had said would be lain there. Then after a few shallow breaths, Karen just leant in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and then picked up her bags and left. Matt didn’t move, he just stood there, like if he didn’t move then the mirage of what he and Karen had would still be real. So real he could touch it, touch her, and hold her and keep holding her.

But Karen was gone, and Matt was going to have to walk home alone tonight; and lock up alone; and get his warm milk alone; and sleep alone – he had only fallen asleep with her twice, and already he was aching just imagining having to sleep without Karen curled into him; without her soft smooth back against his chest; without her hair ruffled against his nose; without her grumbling in the morning; without her rhythmic breathing matching his; without Karen in her entirety.

 _We’re just taking a break_.

Matt figures he would feel better when he believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that whole thing when they bumped into Miss Claire in the street REALLY happened. Matt and Karen were in New York, look it up :)
> 
> Also feedback is appreciated.


	3. England keep my soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took me absolutely agees, but hopefully the end result was worth all the waiting? I don't know, but heck I know this was hard for me, but extremely fun. I've had a few projects on the side, which might explain why it took me so long, but I've gotten it done, and it's onto the next chapter of Matt and Karen's lives for me.
> 
> Happy reading, guys!
> 
> (both this chapter and last chapter's title were quotes of a Pantaloon from the Nutcracker film)

So then they started rehearsing as separate beings. They began to sleep at their own flats, and restricted private rehearsals to a minimal. They don’t do midnight rehearsals at all and barely talk out of class. It was mostly Karen – it wasn’t that Matt didn’t want to talk; he wanted to talk to Karen more than anything, feel her words surrounding him like a safe cocoon of ridiculous topics, like warmth he didn’t know he had missed. But Karen didn’t talk to Matt when she didn’t have to, and even then it felt cold and strange.

It had improved their performance, however. Miss Claire had pointed out that she liked the vulnerability Karen had in her eyes – although Karen’s expression made it clear that it was vulnerability she didn’t know she was displaying – and Matt’s body language did translate into pure need, of wanting Clara closer. But Miss Claire had also made it clear that not all of the audience will be able to see Karen’s eyes and Matt’s body language might be a bit too subtle for some younger audiences, so those areas can be improved on.

“But so far, so good, we’ll have to take this one day at a time. All right, jellybeans! Looking hip, hop and ready to shine - or whatever you damn kids are saying these days. Thank you all for taking the time out to be with little old me, and I'll see you cats on Monday!" Miss Claire said, ending the lesson. Matt ran his fingers through his hair slightly damp from sweat – he didn’t pin it up these days, it was like a shield from Karen’s piercing green eyes. Or were they brown?

It wasn’t that Matt couldn’t remember, but it was more that he didn’t want to. What used to be giggles and laughs when they made mistakes during the routine now became muted discomfort. No one said anything; they just mumbled a sorry and continued their move. Matt’s hands did still shift down to Karen’s hips whenever they started, but it was just a stark reminder of what he didn’t have any more when Karen didn’t gaze at him and smile back.

“See you on Monday,” Karen said, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. She had taken the pins out of her bun and her hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves that billowed slightly away from her face. The hair around her face was also slightly matted from sweat, but it was really her eyes that made her seem really tired.

“Yeah.” Matt answered, giving her a curt nod after glancing at her. Karen didn’t move for a second, and neither did Matt, because he thought if she was going to do any reconciliation then he wasn’t going to lower that chance by pretending he was busy.

But then Karen just turned around and left, and Matt felt hollow, his fingers tossing in his bag and he didn’t know what he was looking for anymore. Then he sighed angrily and sat back on his heels, propping his forehead up by his fingers.  He just wanted it to be over, so that he can get back to the way life was before Karen. But now it just seemed dull, like when you taste something so heavenly you never want to go back to simple food.

 _We’re just taking a break_.

Did that hold some kind of temporary meaning, or did that hold the casual breaking-up tone of _it’s no big deal we’re just ‘taking a break’_. Because every time Matt replayed what Karen said, it always sounded more like the latter than the former, and Matt just didn’t want it to be that. He hadn’t asked Karen about it, even though that would’ve been the simplest way out of this misery, but he just couldn’t bring himself to ask, because what if she said it was the second one? What if she had meant it in the second meaning and then it would’ve been final, and there was no going back. Matt would rather just stay in this pit of uncertainty than go out and risk getting scorched by the sun.

Matt sniffled and he didn’t know he needed to, and had gotten _a hold of yourself, Smith_ and grabbed his bag to change.

 _We’re just taking a break_.

 _The show is in less than two weeks, and then it’ll be over_.

_But what if it isn’t_

_What if won’t be over_

_What if she won’t come back_

_What if it just ended_

_What then_

Matt pulled on his jumper, ignoring the scratching as it was pulled over his nose and stuck his arms into his coat. He slung his bag over his chest, shoving the bundle behind him and flipped up his collar. He headed out the door and stuck his hands in his pockets, heading down the street for his flat. The night air in London was cold, but Matt felt numb for a different reason. His fingers closed around something fragile and thin, with two flat planes. He pulled it out – it was Karen’s reading glasses. He had just taken them off and put them into his pocket and forgotten about it. They were slightly smudged and dirty, but Matt could still peer through them and see a clearer world.

For no reason at all, Matt just slipped it over his nose, stuck his hand back into his pocket, and walked home pretending that the world was brighter. And he blinked away tears that he pretended weren’t there, and he walked as if he wasn’t missing that particular person walking alongside him, with his fingers around hers, with her red hair rippling with every step. And Matt pretended he was okay.

So when the next morning came, and Matt opened his eyes and saw those glasses sitting on his bedside table instead of Karen lying there next to him on the bed – he figured he would be mature and return them to Karen. It wasn’t going to be a big deal – he was just going to knock on her door, give it to her, and go back home. He didn’t even have to talk.

It was no big deal, and Matt wasn’t in a rush. But somehow all of his insides felt fuzzy and warm, and everything he did that morning he did quicker than he usually would. So barely half an hour had passed when Matt had already taken his shower, gotten dressed, eaten breakfast and sat there staring at the glasses.

“It’s no big deal.” He muttered to himself, almost blaming himself for being so selfish – those glasses were hers; he couldn’t just _keep_ them, that was just creepy and disrespectful and entirely not cool. “Come on Smith, it’s no big deal.” He growled in a frustrated tone and snatched the glasses from the table, slipping them into the breast pocket of his coat.

When he arrived at Karen’s flat, he felt out of breath and his nose tingled from the cold. He glanced at his watch – it wasn’t even eight yet. He looked up at the familiar mint green door and raised a closed fist to knock. But he didn’t, he just held it there and stared as if he could bore a hole through the door and see inside if he stared for long enough. Then he pulled his hand away and began to walk away, muttering. But then _no_ he pulled himself back to face the door before pushing himself back again, his indecision using his body like a play toy.

“Just do it, Smith.” He had to convince himself before he could bring himself to knock, and then immediately regretted it. “Shit.” He hissed, planting his face in his hands. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t have a proper conversation with Karen. He couldn’t even say goodbye without behaving like an ass. This was a mistake; everything was a mistake and he was so sorry. He pulled out Karen’s glasses and turned them around in his hands, like considering how he would hand them over. When a while had passed and the door hadn’t been answered, Matt decided that Karen wasn’t home and tried to convince himself to leave, putting her glasses in his pocket. He’ll just have to return them another time, perhaps. For the meantime they’ll just have to stay with him, and Matt pretended that that was the right thing to do.

He turned and began to walk quickly down the street with his hands tucked stiffly into his jacket, pushing his shoulders up. He went all the way down the block and turned right – away from his apartment toward the park. He felt hungry and his mouth was drawing him towards the sandwich place that he and Karen had been to once. He walked past some shops and he wasn’t really paying attention to the people walking down the street.

“Hey!” He heard a yell. He whipped around, and saw passing through the crowd behind him, Karen. She wore a blue and black tracksuit jacket and black leggings, and she had one of her ear phones hanging from her ear. She caught up to him, slightly out of breath, wisps of her coral red hair around her face. “Were you just at my flat?”

“Uh,” Matt’s fingers rubbed the edge of Karen’s glasses in his pocket. “Yeah.”

“Why? Did you need something?” Karen said.

“Um.” Matt’s fingers tightened around Karen’s glasses, but didn’t bring them out. “No, actually. I mean, I was just wondering if we could go for a drink. Or something. You know, if you fancy it.”

“A drink?”

“Yeah, I sort of … blew you off last night, and I felt like a gigantic ass, so I wanted to make it up. Or something. You know if you … fancy it.”

Karen’s expression of suspicion slowly turned into a smile, and Karen looked at him cheekily. “I reckon if the drinks are on you I’d be okay with it.” Matt managed to smile back, honestly, because he wasn’t sure if this was a one off thing, and he wasn’t really sure what the _fuck_ he was doing, but all he cared was that Karen was acting normal, and they were going for drinks.

“Great, did you have anywhere in mind?” He said, and Karen almost frowned before she burst out laughing.

“You’re asking me to drinks and you haven’t even figured out where we’re going? It’s like you just asked me out spontaneously, Smith. Were you at my flat for some other reason?” Karen’s eyes narrowed jokingly, but Matt felt his heart stop for a second.

“No, no.” Matt tried to sound casual. Karen seemed satisfied.

“Well, I’ll have to get changed.” Karen said. Matt raised his eyebrows and smiled. “What? I’m all sweaty and gross from my run, and how do you expect me to show you a good time in this get up?”

They were already walking down the street towards Karen’s flat, and Karen sort of wavered her hands upon her body as if presenting herself. All Matt saw was her body.

“Of course you would need to get changed.”

“Change from jogging gear. I pray ask that is not too much.” Karen joked.

“Shakespeare?”

“Gillan.”

Matt laughed and they turned the corner, toward the minty door Matt was standing at just a moment ago.

“Do you want to come in?” Karen said. Matt made a face.

“Well of course.”

“Just so you can watch me change, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They both knew it was a joke and they both laughed but it was like they were back into their old grooves again, and they were so aware of it. And yet they loved it.

Karen’s more settled in, and Matt felt like he was walking into a different house since the last time he was there. The pictures were hung up and there were fewer boxes, and even though the walls were the same, the flat looks warmer and homier. The light was coming in through the window above the door, right below the staircase. Matt never noticed that window before.

“Help yourself to the fridge.” Karen called from down the hallway, in the end bedroom.

“Did you actually buy things and have things to eat it in?” He opened the fridge and there was milk and yoghurt, and some croissants and a cake box. There was also vegetables and butter, but Matt saw a half full bottle of wine, so he pulled it out and shut the fridge.

He rummaged in the cupboards for glasses, and he saw that she had a few utensils sorted out, but some she’s just left in boxes and slid into the drawer. He put the two glasses down and poured some, and he’s never ever been intensely interested in wine, so he tasted some. It tasted good so he just poured some more in both glasses.

“Okay I’m ready,” Karen said, appearing at the hallway, and Matt could tell she was out of breath not from the jog, but from a hurried dressing. “Where are we going?”

“Here.” Matt said, sitting down and pushing the other glass towards her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Karen rolled her eyes and went back down the hall. “You could’ve told me, did you see what I was wearing?” She called down the hall.

“Oh yeah.” Matt called back.

“Did you know how much effort it took for me to get into those pants?”

“They were pretty tight.”

“Pretty tight!” Karen was yelling, but not angrily. “I give spandex a bad name!” She appeared again with a sweater and some sweat pants and she had a hair tie in her mouth. She was pulling up her hair into a loose bun, strands of red here and there. She really couldn’t be bothered. She sat on the chair opposite Matt and crossed her legs, and took the glass and sipped as if it was tea.

They chatted for a while, and they downed the entire bottle. Then they went quiet, and Karen peered at Matt over the rim of her cup. Matt just stared at the wall with thick lidded eyes.

“So how are you?” Matt asked. Karen smiled almost sleepily at him.

“I’m good, Matt. How’ve you been?”

“Honestly,” Matt said, leaning forward and their faces were close. “not that great.”

Karen wasn’t smiling anymore, and her eyes were flicking from between Matt’s eyes and his lips.  

“Why?”

Matt’s gaze lowered down to Karen’s lips and stayed there. “Because you weren’t there, Kaz. You know that.” Karen swallowed, and her eyes followed the curve of Matt’s lips with every word he was saying. “I’m so sorry, for whatever it was that I did. Just please, don’t leave me again, because I missed you so much, Kaz. Because I love-“ and _you_ was a whisper that was pressed into their kiss, and Karen put her hands in Matt’s hair, knowing that this was so wrong.

She had tried so hard, and she had made sure that they were never alone together. It was even a risk to say goodbye to him last night, but he had been so cold and distant. He didn’t even look at her, and then she had walked home, and she had cried home, but she had known that she was getting better at not loving him – at pretending she didn’t love him.

So today when he came to apologise, she had just been so glad, and her heart felt like a little bird that was trying to flutter its way to him and to whisper in his ear that _Karen still loves you_. But now she was kissing him and they had moved out of their kitchen, hands in hair and Karen had pulled off her sweater. Matt laughed when she pressed herself flush against him because she hadn’t worn anything underneath her sweater.

“Did you plan this getup, Kaz?” Matt muttered, his fingers pulling the hair tie from her red cascade. Karen hadn’t really heard him because Matt tasted like the wine, but also something else and she felt like she had missed this taste her entire life, and she thought if she could figure out what taste it was she could stop kissing him.

They shed clothing as they went, leaving pants and shirts down the hall. Matt sort of pushed her against several surfaces, including the wall five – six times. They were both slightly tipsy and Matt’s balance had only gotten worse. Karen groaned and bit down his neck, and then kissed down to his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Matt slurred, picking her up by the hips and Karen wrapped her legs around his waist.

“It’s okay.” She murmured and kissed his eyes feverishly, now able to reach higher with the leverage. Matt tried to back her onto a wall again but the door was open and they kind of stumbled in and fell onto the bed.

Matt had forgotten how soft Karen was, because the feeling he had felt under the skin of his fingers in her absence was different; transparent, flat, not-Karen. She moaned and Matt felt a shiver run through him because he had missed her warm body against his, her hands running through his hair. Then her fingers tightened and Matt felt his head wrenched up. Karen was glaring at him with a fierce intensity and Matt felt fire in his stomach that he couldn’t place.

“Before you get inside me,” Karen was panting, placing another hand on his head, next to his ear. And she didn’t need to continue, because Matt knew what she was saying, with her body, with her shivering breathing, and he slowly moved down, towards the base of her legs.

Matt’s mouth still tasted like the wine, but he wanted to taste Karen, like it was the appetizer for what’s about to come; besides Karen, that was. Matt’s fingers tingled as he rested them on Karen’s hipbones, feeling her buck slightly as his breath ghosted over the exposed skin and he peeled Karen’s pants from her, dropping them on the floor.

He gave an experimental blow, Karen whimpered, and Matt knew she was begging for it; physically needing it, like she would die. He paused before any part of his lips touched her, letting his presence become known between her legs, and then he pressed in, forward. Karen gave a start, stopping herself before squeezing out a suppressed _oh god_. Matt loved it, and he couldn’t understand why – maybe it was the understanding that Karen was getting absolutely nothing but pleasure out of it, and the fact that it was him who was making her toss her head, twist her fingers in his hair, squeeze his head in between her legs tightly and whimper.

Matt flicked his tongue in a different direction and Karen’s groan was louder than anything he’s heard so far. He could hear her pants, the breathing erratic in places and getting louder as his tongue became thicker and his movements bigger, heavier, telling him that he shouldn’t stop. Her fingers gripped his hair roughly, then relaxing and then tensing again.

And then there it was, Karen was telling him to stop, but not with words; with her body. Her eyes rolled back, her thighs quivered and her grip loosened, and Matt knew he had gotten it out of her.

“Matt,” Karen was whispering; hissing. She was grasping his hair, and his skin, and she was pulling him up so he was over her. “Matt, Matt.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean,” Karen looked to him, and she looked a little apologetic. “I just remembered something.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any condoms.”

It was good that Matt was on a bed because his arms nearly gave out. “Seriously?” He said, exasperated. “You pick _now_ to tell me?”

Karen tried not to smile, but she didn’t look incredibly sorry. “I just remembered just then. I don’t suppose you have one, do you?”

Matt groaned and fell onto the bed next to her. “I didn’t exactly come here prepared to shag you.” Matt said. There was a moment of silence as Karen regained her breath and strength chuckling a little bit, then she giggled, and ran a finger down his chest. “It’s okay. I can make it up to you.” She said, and slowly repositioned herself on her knees on the floor.

“Kaz what are you doing?” Matt said, propping himself onto his elbows, and then immediately threw his head back again, and filled the silence with a gasp. “Oh my _god_.”

So they were back together, and it was a few days afterward during a lesson that Miss Claire brought up something that was actually pretty important that both and overlooked. “Now do you two know about the premier?” Miss Claire asked. Matt and Karen nodded. “Do you both have things to wear?”

Karen nodded but Matt just looked between the two women and murmured _no_. Miss Claire smiled and patted him on the back, then looked to Karen. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

“I’ll try, but I don’t really know where I can get a tailored suit from, I haven’t really been here _that_ long.” Karen said. Miss Claire’s face lit up and she rushed to her bag, pulling out her wallet.

“I have just the thing.” She pulled out a white card and gave it to Karen. “Ask for Jack.”

Karen turned the card around and in neat fonts the card read _Torchwood suits and tailoring, London_. Miss Claire asked them to go during lunch, and take their time, because they weren’t needed for the afternoon rehearsals. They got changed and hailed a cab, giving the cabbie the card.

“Oh I know this place,” The cabbie said. “Hop on in.”

“Sorry, what do you mean you know Torchwood suits and tailors?” Karen asked, getting into the cab.

“Oh it’s nothin’, it’s just a lot of business men around here ask for that place, so us cabbies all sort of know it real well.”

Matt shut the door and the cab took off, diving into the London traffic. “Are they any good?” Matt asked.

“I dunno, business men ain’t of the talky type, y’know.”

“But the people you pick up from there – do their suits look good?”

“Y’know, I never thought about it that way. I guess they do, yeah. I reckon so – them’s real fancy colours like dark blue and all that. Looks real posh and nice.” The light flashed red and they parked, and the cabbie turned around and smiled at them. “Real dapper.”

Karen grinned at Matt, but getting felt up by a man doing his measurements was all Matt could imagine.

“Did you hear that? You’re going to look _dapper_.” Karen murmured.

“I’ll have to if I’ll have to escort you.” Matt said. “I wouldn’t want to get all washed out standing next to you in that dress – I’ll have to make an effort to look good.”

Karen laughed. “The giraffe is putting on a suit, oh boy.”

“Oi.” Matt said, but he was smiling. This kind of banter had become an everyday thing, and it was more affectionate than teasing. They could call each other the worst names possible and they would be okay with it because it was all just jokes at the end of the day.

“And what of you? You know, I reckon – if I shone a torch on your face, you’d look like the moon.”

Karen laughed and so did the cabbie. “That’s just lovin’ teasin’, I hope.” The cabbie said.

“Well she is _quite_ fair, you would have to admit.” Matt tried to persuade. Karen just puffed up her cheeks and crossed her eyes, and buoyed her face in front of Matt’s as if to say _look at me, I’m the mooooooooooon_.

When they arrived at Torchwood suits and tailors, they were expecting a posh street filled with glass windows and expensive wares. Instead, the entrance was around the corner in an alley, and it was the only shop there. Not only did it look dodgy, there was also a shaft of cold wind that was constantly filtering down the alley, as if trying to propel you out. The whistling wind sounded like mingled voices.

_Don’t come innnnn._

_Leeeeeeeave._

_Get ouuuut_.

“Here you are,” the cabbie said, parking. “D’you want me to wait for youse or do you want to just hail another cab when you get out?”

Karen stood next to the door and shivered. “I don’t know. How long do they usually take?”

“D’you know what, I haven’t the faintest idea. How about this; take this –“He handed Karen a yellow card. “It has my cab number on it. You just call me when you’re done and I’ll come get youse, a’right?”

“Is this really the place?” Karen said, and Matt joined her, tucking his hands into his folded arms.

“Yeah, ‘ts not that dodgy. Just dodgy lookin’. They’re saving up for a renovation, y’know, so.” The cabbie said, smiled, and drove off. The wind was still whistling, and Karen and Matt strode into the alleyway, the foreboding feeling only growing.

The door was part mahogany, part glass. It had an intricate gold logo of a golden tree on the glass pane, and inside, the yellow light inside looked very warm.  Karen opened the door and a flood of warmth engulfed them. The small bell by the door rung, and from within the shop, a man yelled “I’ll be right with you!”

There were chairs and stools everywhere, and Matt and Karen took a seat by the door. The interior of the shop and outside in the alley juxtaposed in such a way that baffled Karen. How was it that such a luxurious looking shop would be situated in such a run-down alley?

“Sorry about the wait – Mr Reece, you can come back in two weeks to collect your suit.” The man smiled and handed the man following him his jacket. “Hi, I’m Ianto.”

The man following Ianto – Mr Reece, was on the chubbier side with blonde hair. He took a seat on a big armchair with his coat folded in his arms.

“Oh is Gwen picking you up, Mr Reece?” Ianto said as he pulled off the multitude of tape measures slung over and around his shoulders.

“I tried to tell you Ianto, just call me Reece. We’re the same age, for godsakes!” Mr Reece laughed. “And yes, Gwen is coming today. You don’t mind if I just wait inside the shop, do you?”

“Of course not,” Ianto smiled. Then he turned to Karen and Matt. “Hello, can I help you?”

“Yes, uh –“ Karen pulled out the white card. “Our dance teacher, Ms Claire recommended you guys for suits? She said to ask for Jack.”

Ianto’s smile widened. “Oh, Ms Claire sent you, did she?” He strode to a door and opened a sliver. “Jack! Claire sent some people to get a suit!”

There was some noise of a commotion and what sounded like a lamp falling over, and a man ambled out, all smiles. He had brown hair that wasn’t spiked in a rock style, but it was still admirably flattering. He wore a white shirt with a dark grey vest and black trousers. He also had tape measures dangling around his neck. He had three pins snagged in between his teeth, but he still tried to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Jack.” He mumbled, spitting out the pins – he had a really nice smile. He shook Matt’s hand and then took Karen’s hand. “Hello.”

“Stop it.” Ianto warned. Jack smiled at Ianto innocently and shrugged – _what?_

“Um – we’re here to get a suit.” Matt said, trying to get down to business. “We sort of need it by this weekend.”

“Well it’s good you came to me on a Tuesday then.” Jack said, pulling out a cream tape measure and putting it against Matt’s waist, his scent instantly in Matt’s nose. He gave Karen a look that said _can you smell that_ and Karen’s face translated _Damn this man smells good_. “Sorry to be brash but you didn’t exactly have an appointment so we’ll have to rush this – arms up.”

Matt complied and Jack spent the next 10 minutes taking down every and any measurement Matt had to offer. Ianto was by his side taking down the numbers as they shot out like bullets from a gun – they were a well-oiled machine. But then someone came in, and Ianto asked Karen if she could just write down the digits in order the boxes were in, and went to serve the customer. Karen stood like a deer in the headlights, and Jack had to coax her into writing down numbers.

“It’s alright –“

“But what if I screw up – I shouldn’t be doing this, this is important! We don’t want to make Matt a suit with like one of the leg longer than the other!” Karen was panicking. “We can’t show up with Matt looking like he outgrew one-half of his clothes overnight!”

“Please!” Jack stood and laid his hands on Karen’s shoulders. She immediately stilled. “Calm down. It’ll be fine – he’s pretty thin so even if you mess up where the numbers should go we’ll figure it out. Just – we just need you to take the numbers down, alright love?”

Matt just didn’t like the way Karen’s eyes twinkled when Jack said _love_. What was this – Oliver Twist? He didn’t have time to remind Karen whose _love_ she was because Jack was back over him again, tape measure being tucked into places he didn’t know he had places.

“Right, so do I need to come back?” Matt grunted as Jack took the tape measure up the inside of his leg, and he didn’t want that man nearing his crotch. But then _shazam_ there his hand was right up next to his boys, and Jack yelled out a number and Matt was concentrating on thinking of gross things like his grandma naked and pruny things because Jack was wriggling his hand around because apparently tailors did that and he’s pretty sure he could sue for molestation. Then Jack took the tape measure down the inside of his right leg and Matt braced himself because he’ll be damned if he was going to be semi-groped while his girlfriend stood there and took down measurements that he was sure was about his genitals and whatnot.

“Just come in Friday and we should have it ready for you.” Jack murmured. “Thirty-two inches.”

“Why do you do both?” Karen asked, writing down the number. Jack looked at her in inquiry. “I mean,” she continued. “People’s legs are the same, so why do you need to do the inside twice?”

 _Good god she’s heard my wailing pleas._ Matt thought.

“Well some people look like they have different lengths legs, so it’s better to do both, just in case.” Jack chuckled. Matt felt a wave of undignified air wash over him because _my legs are the same lengths thank you very much._

“And that should be all.” Jack said, pulling the tape measure out from around Matt’s ankles. He took the clipboard from Karen’s hands and filled some boxes in. “You have very nice hand writing.” He smiled. All Matt could do was take Karen’s hand because he felt like Karen was just going to pack up and run away with this man.

“Thank you.” Karen smiled.

“Just come with me.” Jack said, walking over to the counter they had, where a notebook was open. “I’ll pencil you in for Friday evening – about seven?” Jack glanced up at them two from his face-down position. Karen looked to Matt, and he to her. There didn’t seem to be any objections, so they agreed.

“Jack – I need a little help.” Ianto was calling, struggling to make the tape measure touch from behind the tubby man’s torso. Jack thanked them for coming and said he will be here on Friday to give Matt his suit, and then he gave Matt what he thought was quite an affectionate _pat **on the bum**_ and let them go. Karen pulled out the cabbie’s number and few minutes later they were inside the cabbie’s car.

“He was nice.” Karen murmured, crossing her fingers and uncrossing them in her lap. Matt just grunted – he could almost still feel Jack making himself comfortable down there in his regions where he only let the most best special people near. “I reckon he was gay though.”

Matt nearly choked on the gust of air he was breathing in; that noise was definitely not human.

“I mean – you know that guy, Ianto? Did you see the way they looked at each other? It’s obvious they were dating. It’s too bad – he was really good looking.” Karen sighed.

So Jack had a boyfriend – that tramp. Of course; how did Matt not understand? He was living the dream – fondled by a gay tailor whom his girlfriend probably had the hots for. Throw in a transgender magician and he’d be the million-dollar man.

The cabbie took them back to the dance studio, where Miss Claire gestured for them not to interrupt the lesson until the dance was over. Matt and Karen stood back and watched the dance of the Snowflakes, watched the class who would accompany them in less than three weeks time. It was time to knuckle down and really polish everything until they outshone the sun. There was no room for mistakes or injuries now; they were in too far to disappoint anyone.

“And _exunt_.” Miss Claire gushed as the class ran gently diagonally across the dance floor to the wall – when they’re in the theatre that would be where the curtains will be. They’ll run off stage to change and drink water, probably.

Miss Claire waved Matt and Karen over. “How was it?”

“It was good. We’ll pick the suit up Friday, actually.” Karen said.

“Oh yeah. It was great.” Matt managed. Karen frowned but Miss Claire just laughed.

“Jack can be a handful, can’t he?”

“He got a handful of me alright.”

“Look – he’s actually very efficient. What other tailor do you know that could make a suit in two days?”

“Well, we don’t know any tailors _ever_ , so that’s not really a fair question.” Karen pointed out.

“It’s fair enough.” Miss Claire said, gesturing to the class for them to return to their positions. “Now to your positions, please.”

Karen and Matt ran through the dance until Miss Claire was satisfied they had the emotional side under control, and then they moved to good old technique exercises, just to remind their muscles that they weren’t going to be dancing the Nutcracker for the rest of their lives.

“It’s good to see you two back together,” Miss Claire said, when class had ended. “You just seem, happier.” Karen was at the far side of the room packing up, so Miss Claire could speak freely. “I didn’t want to break you two up, it was just getting too … boring.” She said. Matt nodded – he understood what she meant; if he enjoyed real life too much, his performance was going to become hindered. Ms Claire was silent and reserved; a stark contrast to the usual smile plastered across her careworn face. She looked quite sombre to Matt, who had known her for so long. “I just … wanted you to know, I am so sorry. I royally buggered this situation. I want you to know that.”

“It’s fine, it’s done us good, really.” Matt said, and then put on a bright smile as Karen walked over and put a hand on his arm.

“Ready to go?” She said, and gave Miss Claire a warm smile.

“Yeah, go on ahead I’ll be right there.” Matt gave her cheek a soft kiss, and Karen went to change. “Listen, don’t worry about it. It’s not the hugest deal, and I do hate to see you sad.” Matt said.

Miss Claire gave a small laugh and pinched Matt’s cheek affectionately. Matt couldn’t help but laugh along a little as she ruffled his hair, contorting it at strange angles.“Thanks, Matthew.”

So Matt and Karen went home early that night, got into a comfortable pile of pale flexible limbs and blankets on the sofa with hot cocoa – with those tiny little marshmallows Karen picked up a few days before, and watched episodes of Top Gear until they fell asleep.

It was blissful days until the premier – pastries and outings to the zoo, the park, the galleries and underground subways with street art that Karen found strangely calming, and places in London – and not London – that Matt always held close to his heart.

She loved it, because it was like seeing parts of Matt’s soul. Those places were parts of Matt’s soul and they were beautiful and Karen loved it and she loved him for sharing them with her. Matt would sometimes see people he knew, and they’ll greet each other and ask after people, and set up dates to have coffee or lunch, and Matt will actually follow through, and Karen wasn’t a bit bothered by it – it might have something to do with the fact that he usually brings her with him, and she’s made more friends than she can count on all her fingers and toes, but it’s also the fact that Matt’s just so open about everything that he is, has, had and will be. He’s exposed himself completely to her, in every way, and she just felt so loved.

The day of the premier landed on a Saturday, and for the fifth time that week, Matt donned the suit. He pulled on the thin black tie slightly so he could breathe, and smoothed down the front of his jacket. All groping and self-indulging aside, Torchwood really was quite a fantastic tailoring place. The pants were snug, but not too tight, and the jacket was well fitted in the back, as well as the shoulders and arms. There also seemed to be particular room where the pant legs met, at the crotch, but Matt ignored the thought that maybe Jack did that on purpose to give his boys a bit more breathing room; he did find regular pants a little suffocating sometimes, maybe Jack realized that too and did him a favour.

He tried to remember the names of the people Miss Claire had told him to remember – Jackson Hathaway, Rupert Flint, Greta – Greta, what was her last name? This wasn’t something new for Matt, since he’s done these before, but not regularly. He’s a little dusty in the etiquette department, but he felt fine, because Karen was going to be there, and he figured if anyone was going to be refreshingly naïve when it came to premiers it would be her.

But it wasn’t just that, because Karen was going to be there, somehow he just felt okay. It wasn’t even an okay fuelled by a reason, it was just – _Karen’s going to be there, so you’re going to be okay_. It was just a simple link, and Matt really didn’t know how he survived the times when he wasn’t with Karen, like those nights when he slept alone at his apartment, or when he had lunch or dinner or breakfast alone because they had other things on. They weren’t stuck together like Velcro, because they were grown people for Christ’s sake, but he loved the level of comfort, of serenity, of _okay_ Karen brought him, he loved it.

 “Are you ready?” He heard and he looked up in time to see Karen walk out. She was wearing the same dress he’d helped her put on last time; the deep plum dress that just made Karen’s skin shine like something fantastic. She had makeup on, and she looked ridiculously good. Her eyes almost shined from their black smoky frames, and her lips were pink, and Matt noticed that and remembered that, locked it away because he loved them and he just didn’t want to forget her lips, ever. Her hair was pulled back lightly so it was away from his face, half up half down, tucked behind her ears.

“Wow – yeah. I mean yes.” He offered her a hand, an arm really, and Karen wrapped her arm around it.

“Oh wait!” Karen said, and quickly ran back down the corridor, to one of the vanities sitting in the end. She opened one of the drawers, pulled out a case and hobbled back, and Matt laughed and Karen told him to _shut up_.

“Here.” She said, and handed him the case. It was black and rounded, and Matt gave Karen a little look before he opened it. There were a pair of sunglasses inside, tinted black, and funnily enough, Matt thought it would look really good with his suit. He looked up at Karen.

“Well you always teased me about my glasses so I got you these.” Karen smiled.

“You’re going to tease me about these? They’re so badass, Kaz. I really have to teach you the art of revenge properly. How _did_ you survive school?” He chuckled.

“Oh no, because now, you’re going to be the person who wears sunglasses in _London_.”

Matt paused.

“Fair enough.” He said, and put them on. He looked in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall. “I look cool.” Then he turned to Karen and grinned. “Ready to go?”

Karen nodded, grabbed her purse, and took his arm again, giving his cheek a soft kiss, leaving a faint pink lip mark. Miss Claire had said that they would have to arrive in something fancy for the premier, so they’re hiring a limo – on the dance company’s budget. It was parked right outside and Karen was way too excited. There was a thin whining noise as Matt opened the door, and for a split second he thought it was the door, before he realized it was just Karen’s excitement leaking out between her lips.

“It’s a limo! Ahhhhhh it’s so posh, so black, look Matt, look how _shiny_ it is.” She said, grinning.

“Yeah, it’s really … _reflective_.” Matt smiled. “Now grab your purse, don’t forget anything. Keys?”

Karen nodded, but kept her eyes locks on the limo. “Yeah, yeah come on!” She said, and started to drag Matt toward the car.

The limo driver was called Jim, and he was really nice about how excitable Karen was. She shuffled into the seats, scooting along the smooth leather. Matt climbed in after her, laughing, and Jim pull off the curb.

“What does this button do?” She said, pointing at the rows of buttons on the side of the window.

“They do different things, but the ones at the bottom row control the window between you guys and me.” Jim answered, and peered at them through his rear-view mirror. “Try it.”

Karen picked a button with a little triangle on it, and pushed it. A heavily tinted piece of glass slid up slowly between the driver’s section and the rear of the limo. Karen pushed the triangle button next to it, and the glass wound back down again.

“Cool.” Karen breathed, and went to analyse the rest of the buttons. There were ones with squiggly lines on it, and boxes and letters that didn’t add up to words.

“Stop that, what if you break it,” Matt chuckled, because Karen was now pressing all of them, turning on lights and music and all kinds of things Matt didn’t know limos came equipped with. Karen just gave him a look, but then gave him another one.

“You do look real dapper, did you know that?” she said, and her eyes looked a bit darker, but maybe it was just the lights she turned on. “Real … swell.” She said, and slid her fingers over the key pads.

“Kaz?” Matt asked, not sure if he was excited or scared.

“Give us a second, will you Jimmy boy?” Karen said, and pressed the up button, and the window wound up between them and Jim. She wasn’t even looking, and Matt was really very impressed by that.

Karen slid over and put her arms around Matt, and let her lips drift dangerously close before gliding back out again.

“Kaz…?” Matt asked again, not letting his voice shake or hitch. “Are you doing what I think you’re going to do?” He said, and Karen grinned a bit, and did a half-chuckle-half-giggle.

“Tell me, Matt.” Karen said, and let her eyes meet Matt’s finally. “Have you ever done it in a suit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jess you darling I know you're reading this and I want to thank you a lot and you know why and I hoped you enjoyed this chapter because awh you've helped me so much


	4. Time that was, time shall be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I just don't have it in me to proofread right now, but I do hope the whole content still makes sense, oh dear. Also sorry for how long this took me, but I managed to reach the content deadline, which makes me muy happy. Enjoy Matt and Karen's shenanigans, on my behalf! :)

There was a knock on the glass and Karen broke from Matt, her fingers frozen around Matt’s belt.

“We’re here.” They heard Jim’s muffled voice. Karen looked to Matt and then back to the tinted window.

“Just a minute!” She yelled, and Matt laughed. What, _was she answering the door_? Karen quickly reapplied some lipstick – and Matt had to remind himself that she was reapplying it because he had licked it all off, and he wiped his mouth a bit too. Karen pushed all her hair back, trying to make it look presentable, and he tucked wisps behind her ear. She turned to Matt.

“How do I look?” She said. Matt smiled and put his arm around her waist.

“Smokin’.” He answered. Karen laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth, and to Matt it felt like a little butterfly. She wiped it with her finger afterward to remove the mark she had left anyway, and fixed Matt’s hair. Matt put his sunglasses back on, and Karen laughed and muttered _dopey_.

“Ready?” He asked, and Karen looked nervously to the car door, but nodded.

“You’ll be fine.” He murmured in her ear, and he heard Karen give him a nervous chuckle.

Matt opened the door first, and there were rows of photographers on either side of the walkway. A woman with a clipboard took their names as Matt helped Karen out of the car, and then instructed them to stop and pose at the instructed intervals so the photographers can take proper pictures. Matt put one hand on Karen’s back and tucked the other one in the pants pocket, both posing as only they knew how.

There were more cameras outside the building than Matt would’ve expected; well, more cameras than last time anyway. But this was quite a large production of the Nutcracker, with lots of big sponsors, so maybe the huge publicity attention was appropriate. But Karen – the delicate snowflake baby – had been a dynamite girl, and she had reapplied her lipstick, stood to attention almost seductively for the cameras, and then hurried inside with Matt as instructed.

They were guided to a table with drinks, and the PR rushed off to find Miss Claire.

“This is so exciting.” Karen giggled quietly as a few people walked by, some arm in arm, some just chatting quietly. They were other dancers – not just ballet. Matt spotted Davis Strax – he remembered him from the last time Miss Claire had dragged him to one of these things, and Davis Strax was the main attraction; his solo dance on the ice was the promotion point, and as expected, critical and enlightening reviews of his performance brought floods of tourists and locals to watch him as he twirled in tighter and tighter circles on the ice. He also saw Vastra and Jenny bantering in a corner; they were the only two openly homosexual couple that danced together in the entire industry of tango – it was always male and female in this style of dance, of sex and tension, but they were like a new flavour, and nine years down the industry of their duets, they’re still a favourite in the world of tango appreciation.

Matt saw more familiar faces, made greetings and touched Karen’s arm from time to time, as if he was making sure she was still solid, still there. He saw a lot of old friends, like Renee, the young and prosperous French ballerina he met three years ago, or Sarah Jayne, the retired swing dancer from the 80s, and a dear old friend.

“"Karen! Matthew! You hip and groovy cats, get over here! Don't question it, just go with the flow; you know you want to!” They heard, and turning they say Miss Claire approach them – and her large gypsy hoop earrings bounced as well as her hair with each step, the colourful and sparkling scarf winding into her hair and spilling down her back. “There are some lovely people here that I'd like you to have the pleasure of meeting; no pressure or anything.”

There were two men following her – one was a middle aged, slightly shorter man with curly hair, and one was a tall lean man with a ginger hair and a hint of a moustache. The short man wore simple casual clothes; the tall one wore a complete three-piece suit with white gloves. The short man went and shook both their hands when Miss Claire introduced him as Stephen Moffit, and the tall man bowed when Miss Claire introduced him as Marc Gattis. They were directors from quite a prominent dance theatre company, who hosted only the best and brightest in the arena of dance and movement. They were sourcing dancers from around the globe to partake in one of their new projects – the name was a secret, but the key themes they revealed were to be adventure and surprise.

“We want a new perspective on the powers of _dance_ and the stories it can convey.” Marc explained. Matt looked to Karen and back again unsure as to whether or not to feel enlightened or patronized, while Miss Claire nodded on knowingly. “As much as we fancy classics like _the Nutcracker_ and _Swan Lake_ , it would be such a breath of fresh air to watch something that was like the stories on a TV screen, but developed and illustrated through physical movement.”

“There’s no panning of cameras or second takes, and everything will be unbelievably real. _That’s_ what we’re trying to capture here, _that’s_ the selling point, and _that’s_ what we’ve been looking for in the dancers we’ve interviewed and graded. We’re looking for people who can conduct themselves fluidly, and be able to _live_ in the moments that have been scripted, and to be able to bring that forward in an almost innocent light. It’ll be the first of its kind.” Stephen finished with a wring of his slight Irish accent.

“Isn't that just the bees knees?” Miss Claire exclaimed, and grinned at Matt. Matt smiled – to Matt, it sounded kinda goofy, kinda far-fetched; and kinda brilliant. He kinda liked it.

“Yeah, that’s fantastic.” Karen said, and squeezed Matt’s hand. “So does that mean we can count on seeing you two at the performances?”

Stephen nodded, and Marc gave a short laugh. “Oh yes, we’re going at least twice – once for assessment,” and then Marc put a hand up to the side of his mouth, as if he was telling a secret. “and once for our wives.”

Miss Claire clapped delightedly, like a seven year old who’s just realized Christmas had at last come and was just getting ready to set off to breach the comforts of her parents’ sleep to scream that it was one minute into Christmas already in the dead of night, and demand presents. “Oh, brilliant! Did I ever mention how much I love you guys? Because I do. I'm going to leave you two to bond and make some friendships over here; I must dash for a second – John!” Miss Claire hurried away and left the four of them alone, running after an elderly man with snow-white stubble.

As Karen and Matt breezed their way through the conversation, the subject eventually arrived back at the two director’s ‘secret’ project, where Marc began to reveal a little bit more.

“It’ll be quite exotic – the main male leads will be strangers, aliens to the situation, if you will, and there will be three – Nign, Tein and Aleivon each represent a different era in the entirety of the dance. We’re thinking different styles of dance for each man, to really accentuate their differences and how being different isn’t always a bad thing. They’re always accompanied by a band of brothers –“

“Sisters.” Stephen corrected him.

“– yes of course I meant female, Stephen; it’s just a saying, but yes these ‘companions’ will be female, and they help to balance out the darker sides of these men, these dangerous, mysterious, cheeky men.”

“Right.” Was all Matt could say.

“Darker? Cheeky?” Karen followed. “Who exactly are your target audience?”

“We plan on taking London first, and then after Britain is crippled at our hand, we’ll move on to take over the world.” Stephen said, leaving a dramatic silence in his wake, and then all four burst into laughter.

“We’re not concrete on that, but we’re going to be hopefully catering to the working class and younger of the British kingdom.” Marc said when they had all calmed down a bit.

“That’s great. It’s a fantastic idea, and we’d love to work on it.” Matt said, still smiling widely. It sounded crazy and just a little bit nuts, but Matt felt drawn to it, like this was the most important thing that happened to him in another life.

“If we make it in, of course.” Karen joked, and the two men chuckled.

“I think you’ll do just fine.” Marc smiled, looked to Stephen, who nodded.

“We’d better leave you two to socialize some more, you’ve got lots of promoting to do.” Stephen said, and the two directors parted ways with the primas, leaving them with a new perspective on their suddenly promising future in the dance industry. Matt looked to Karen, who gave him a wide-eyed grin coupled with a shrug, and they moved on, not wanting to get too hung up on the opportunity that was just offered. It was fantastic, and would definitely get them significant amounts of attention in the world of ballet – whether good or bad attention, that would be dealt with later on – right now they needed to be presentable to anyone else they were going to meet with.

The rest of the night wasn’t uneventful – they met with several other directors of miscellaneous dance companies, but Miss Claire just didn’t seem as ecstatic when she introduced them as she was when she introduced Marc and Stephen. That excitable-puppy glow was gone, although of course she was pleased – any meeting was business. Then there were some interviews set up – not many, but enough to attract some audience attention and hopefully some media exposure.

“Now, let's be serious for a moment. I'm as shocked as you are, I know. But I need you to avoid pawing each other like I know you two do, and maintain some face over here. Got that?" Miss Claire said with a deadpan expression threatening to break out into a smile as they exited the hallway onto a platform with a row of tables and chairs facing the hall, which was seated with a plateau of reporters. Karen looked to Matt, who took her hand and squeezed it. “Smile and wave, children.” Miss Claire said after a steady sigh, and walked into view, smiling and waving. The cameras went into frenzy for a few frantic seconds, and then paused to wait for the two main attractions.

Matt raised Karen’s hand to his lips and kissed the pale rise of the back of her hand. “You scared?” He whispered.

“Scared? Who’s scared?” She scoffed, and then slowly grinned. “Geronimo.”

 The lights were almost blinding as Karen pulled Matt out onto the platform, and he only managed to keep his eyes open and wave and smile – well, grimace – as the photographers all began to holler ‘ _here!_ ’, ‘ _here!_ ’, ‘ _here!_ ’ like over-excited meerkats. ­­

“Alright, alright settle down! We will now take questions.” Miss Claire said as she gestured to Karen and Matt to sit down. Karen and Matt took a seat – Karen touched her glass of water but didn’t drink it and Matt laced his fingers on the table, leaning forward onto his elbows. There were other people sitting in the panel – directors of Matt’s dance company, managers, producers and major sponsors’ reps – most of the questions were directed at them; about dates, times, prices, probability of any other performances of similar light, access and personal thoughts on the performance, but of the few questions aimed at the dancers, one definitely bore the headlights down straight on them two and raised a few eyebrows.

“George Jamieson from _Dance Republic_ , this is for the performers,” The man said, standing up and tape recorder in hand.

“Yes, go ahead.” Miss Claire said, and Karen smiled as the reporter looked at her.

“There has been news that you, Miss Gillan and Mr Smith are now actively in a relationship – how do you think this kind of situation affects the performance and were there any complications?”

Karen looked to Miss Claire, who gave her a look that said _brave heart, sweetie_ and she smiled at the reporter again as she spoke into the microphone.

“Yes, it’s true that Matt and I are in a relationship, and as it is with any kind of partner relationship in a performance, the chemistry is imperative for conveying the story and different situations. I would be lying if I said our relationship hadn’t affected our ability to perform, but it’s an obstacle that we’ve learnt to overcome, and now our relationship is actually a factor that’s made our performance stronger.”

The reporter thanked her, but judging by the way most of the reporters looked down and began to type and write frantically, this was definitely news they found interesting and gossip worthy. Karen looked to Miss Claire, just a little bit worried, but Miss Claire smiled supportively and gave her big thumbs up. Matt put one of his hands on her thigh under the table and gave what could’ve been an encouraging squeeze, letting his hand glide up and down soothingly. Karen put her hand over his and gave him a wan smile.

The rest of the press conference wore on and more prodding was done, but Matt and Karen had been revived with a new rigor, and managed to give all the right answers to dispel any preying reporters scavenging for gossip to possibly start rumours.

“You kids were on the money! Fabulous! I'll be saying that a lot as I steadily become less sober - no thanks to this fabulous free wine over here - but you were!” Miss Claire said as the reporters disbanded after nearly an hour of quick-firing questions, and Karen and Matt were released back into the party. “Karen I didn’t know you were such a wordsmith.” She winked.

“She’s a prose-master, you don’t even know.” Matt laughed.

“Well, as a reward, the limo is at your disposal for the rest of tonight - oh, I see those faces! I know what dastardly deeds you're thinking of right now, but please, children. Behave yourselves. Make sure dear old Jim - bless him - gets back before midnight; he's like a gremlin - no food past midnight, okay? Even better, you've got the rest of the night to yourselves! Drink all the wine in this room, eat as much bloody caviar as you want, get up to all sorts of shenanigans and just enjoy yourselves. Just be safe, kids. Use protection - or you will get pregnant and die, and blah blah blah..”

“What are you going to do?” Karen said after a little huff of a laugh.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’m just going to go and show these–“ she put a hand on either side of her chest and pressed so her cleavage spilled out of her low top. “– off to a few ex-boyfriends.”

“Are you sure?” Matt said, and Karen could tell he’s met a few. “I mean, do you remember what happened the last time you tried to do the whole rom-com feel good montage in which all past partners regret ever accepting your breakup and spends the rest of their pitiful lives rethinking every decision that led up to your separation while you run off into the sunset with Ryan Gosling?”

“You know an _awful_ lot about rom-com movies.” Karen said suspiciously after an impressive silence, smiling wily.

“Oh please, Matthew’s life is basically _Bridget Jones's Diary_ except there is no punch on in the streets and he doesn’t get to snog Mr Darcy in his leopard knickers at the end.” Miss Claire laughed and then as if she had spotted someone gliding through the crowds, her eyes lit up with malicious and cheeky glee, and she gave two exaggerated swishes of her hair. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I have to spill wine all over so he will look at my boobs.”

“And there is Miss Claire in one sentence.” Matt said as Miss Claire pushed past them with scary determination. Karen laughed and they took Miss Claire’s advice – they drank and ate and talked and met lots of new people and met lots of old people and met lots of in between people. It was all a bit of a blur, really, because the next thing they knew Jim was helping them out of the car to their flat.

“Come on, love.” And Karen was drawn to the Irish brogue, helped out of the limo and set against her door so she won’t fall over. Then Jim came back and managed to get Matt out of the car, but seeing as how Matt was taller than him, and a lot more susceptible to alcohol, Jim took longer to get him to the door, stumbling around and trying to keep their faces from meeting with the floor.

“Gremlins!” Matt was wailing, his hands patting for the door knob – on the wrong side of the door. Karen was cracking up, and kept backing into the door knob, all the while trying to find her keys.

“Sneaky, sneaky.” She said, pulling out the keys and attempting to inconspicuously get them into the lock without Matt noticing. But of course, she couldn’t see straight, and the key kept missing. Jim was just about to drive away too, but he saw the two bumbling dancers, pissed off their faces, sighed and got out of the car.

“’ere we go,” He said, getting the key into the lock and unlocking it. But both Matt and Karen had leant their weight on it, and as the door opened both of them toppled over in a heap into the hallway. They started laughing, but Karen, being more sober than Matt, who’s about three minutes away from drunken sleep, thanked Jim and took the keys.

“Come on Matt, come – come on.” She hiccupped when she managed to get his feet out of the way and close the door. She managed to get Matt to a couch, but before he had a chance to fall down, she began to tug at his jacket and shirt. “It’s a good suit, it’ll get wrinkled. Off.”

Matt complied, sluggishly undressing, and laying things out the best he could with his clumsy numb fingers. Karen undressed too and laid her dress out. Matt laid down on the couch, ignoring the idea of the bed altogether, and tired and sleepy, Karen did the same, the two seeming to find a comfortable sleeping position together on the couch within seconds.

When Matt woke up he was aware of just how badly his chest ached, because when Karen sleeps after a long night out, she sleeps like a log. Literally like a log. She hadn’t moved once during the night, and Matt was in sorts pinned down. He groaned and managed to get up, leaving Karen by herself on the couch, rubbing his chest. _Jesus_ , he thought as he looked in the bathroom mirror, rubbing the red patch on his chest. He shrugged and ignored it – it’ll go away. Karen didn’t really have anything that matched in her kitchen – she had pancake mix but she didn’t have butter or syrup. She had bread but no spreads or toaster. She had cereal but not milk.

Matt sighed.

“What time is it?” Karen grumbled when it was her time to wake up. “And why is it so bloody bright?” She said, covering her eyes. Matt glanced to the clock.

“It’s half past one.” He said, and there was crinkling and crunching. Karen managed to adjust to the brightness to see what was making the noise, and Matt was sitting in his pants and socks and sunglasses, eating Doritos and reading the newspaper.

“You do know that newspaper is from yesterday?” She said, smiling.

“Aw man, does that mean the scarf sale down at Marcks is over?” He groaned exasperatedly flipping back a few pages, genuinely upset.

“I don’t know, but there’s no post on Sundays.” She said, getting up and stretching. She took the glasses from him and Matt hissed, shielding his eyes.

“Meanie.” He muttered.

“Dork.” She replied, taking a chip and leaving. Matt spluttered, trying to find a comeback.

“Ginger!” He finally yelled after her, and immediately after that word left his lips, – “Chin boy!” Karen yelled back from the bathroom.

Matt laughed – that was good. But he had a banging headache, the sun was still in his eyes and his mouth was dry from all the chips.

“Hey are we still practicing today?” Karen called, and Matt grimaced. They were supposed to head down to the studio again today – depending on how they felt, and Matt really wasn’t up to it.

“I don’t know, Kaz. I think I’d drop you on the _penche_.” He said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Your face is already pretty damn close to the floor at that point, and I know it’s just a five inch drop but the show is in less than a week and your face is too pretty to drop.”

“So don’t drop me.” Karen said, smiling as she returns with a cup of water. “Drink.” She says, and kissed the top of Matt’s head. “Wait, what is that?” She says as she took a small sniff again. “Is that … lilac?” She huffs with a small laugh.

“It’s unisex, and for your information, it was Miss Claire’s idea.” Matt says, and Karen ruffles his hair, mussing it further into bed-head territory.

“It’s nice.” She manages, her voice a little strained, sitting down and sliding the newspaper over and it was obvious she was holding back a laugh. Matt sighs.

“Alright, what is it?” He says, and Karen picks up a strand of her own ginger hair to pass to Matt. Matt gives her a look to which she returns a cheeky smile, and then he takes a whiff, smells lilac, and throws it back at her, throwing his hands in the air and sitting back in his chair.

“It’s unisex!” He exclaims, and Karen bursts into laughter.

“Yeah well I had it first.” Karen was laughing, and Matt looks at her, and begins to toss Karen’s hair like she had ruffled his, and pretty soon there was squealing and laughing and chasing around Karen’s flat. But all things aside, they did sober up enough to get a few hours’ practice in during the afternoon, and they did some intense sessions in the next few weeks refining specific sections of the performance.

The costume fittings though, they were the toughest.

The pain from dancing was nothing compared to the stress and tightness and schedule of the costume fittings for the last few days. Ballet is an extreme art, and there are more levels of pain than you can withstand that can appear in any part of your body. But at least that pain is calculated, and you could rest from the pain and regain your strength. But costume fittings are here and there and there are time limits, and stress especially when you’re on such a tight schedule.

The costume orders were held up, and they were supposed to have two whole months to get the costume fittings done, but the orders were pushed back due to shipping and manufacturing complications, and they were given less than five days to get it all done. But it was worth it, and Clara’s two costumes were hand tailored and sequined as well – done by a group of thirteen lovely women in the costume department. Karen was getting the classic Clara nightgown, but Miss Claire also wanted a velvet maroon tulle costume as well, for when she was with the prince. Matt hadn’t seen her in either of them, but he only had one costume, so he spent the rest of his spare time sleeping.

He was woken one night by Karen climbing into bed.

“I’m knackered, ugh.” She groaned, and she pulled off her jumper to sleep in her singlet. Matt keened softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist, still half asleep.

“How was it?” He mumbled, kissing the exposed bit of skin between her singlet and bottoms at her hip.

“Good, but I think I got stabbed by the pins a few times,” She whispered, rubbing a bit under her arm. “You should see it, Matt. It’s beautiful – it’s maroon and there are sequins on the tutu tulle, and it’s tailored, and it’s so perfect.”

“So good day, huh.” Matt chuckles. Karen settles down so their foreheads are touching and their arms are somehow around each other.

They lay there, somewhere between proper sleep and the beginnings of a cat nap, and then Karen took a little breath and said – “Hey Matt,” to which Matt didn’t open his eyes, but raised his eyebrows, and replied with a little _hm_?

“We go on show in two days.” Karen whispered. “What happens afterwards?”

Matt opened his eyes, and looked between Karen’s – her green-but-nearly-hazel-in-this-lighting eyes. “What do you mean?” He said.

“I came here especially for _the Nutcracker_ , I still have a life and a family back in Scotland. What happens after the show? I go back to Scotland, right?” At this Karen snuggles a little closer, and she’s now looking down, and Matt’s watching her green-but-nearly-hazel-in-this-lighting eyes through her long lashes. “But … I don’t want to.”

“You have to, Kaz. Your mum needs you.” Matt whispers.

“But _I_ need _you_.” Karen said, and she puts a hand up to play with a strand of Matt’s fringe. Her mouth is half open, and Matt’s tempted to fill it up with his comforting words, but he doesn’t. He takes Karen’s hand from his hair and kisses it.

“And I need you too. But we’ll survive …” Matt frowned a little. “Where does your mum live?”

Karen chuckled softly. “I go back to Kinmylies. It’s about 2 hours on a plane and about 9 hours to drive.” She laughed a little. “Road trip?” She pretended to do a little dance.

“We’ll survive that, Kaz. We’ll visit, and call, and Skype, and we’ll spend the holidays together.” Matt began to say, but Karen shushed him with her finger.

“We’re professional dancers, Matt. Do you really think we’ll have time for all of that?” She said.

“You’re right.” Matt finally said, and he tucked in for a little kiss. “But can we deal with this tomorrow? I had so much to do today, and I am _so_ tired.”

“Yeah, yeah sleep. I’ve got that tomorrow.” Karen smiled, kissing Matt on the forehead and settling to sleep. But she couldn’t, and even though Karen couldn’t tell, Matt couldn’t either.

_What comes after the show?_

When the morning brought not sunshine but soft pattering rain on Karen’s windowpanes, it was like the universe was gently breaking it to the two of them that their separation would be inevitable. There were a lot of quick smiles, soft nips of kisses and lingering touches that day. It was like they were beginning their goodbyes already; leaving hints of themselves on each other so they would not be forgotten, at least.

 “Oh, wonderful, Karen! Make sure you don't lose that lovely form of yours during the second turn-out, and Matthew - watch those damn hips of yours! Don't look at me like that, I still love you." Miss Claire articulated, playfully slapping his side into place while showing her star pupils where their problems were. "Oh, my two lovelies are growing up! It's far too beautiful for my emotions to take. You adorable bastards, I'm so proud of you!” She sighed, standing back as Karen and Matt took their positions again. Once Karen got into the zone, she didn’t come out lest Pompeii relocated and threatened to bury her, so Matt offered Miss Claire a thankful smile, and began again upon their cue. One day to go – they had to polish the routine until it shone so much they could spot it from space. It was only fair after all; they had worked so hard on it.

“Are you young grasshoppers ready for tomorrow?” Miss Claire asks after rehearsal, when Matt’s wiping the slight perspiration from his brow and Karen is shaking out her hair. “I know I've said this so many times that it's practically drilled into your brain with industry-strength screws; I hope tomorrow goes spectacularly! So spectacular that the moment you walk off that stage the high heavens will be smiling down on your faces. Or it could be sweat. You decide. I don't have to say that you'll be my baby stars, because you _are_ my baby stars, so rest up for the big performance tomorrow night, and I expect your nerve-stricken faces back here at 5 o'clock sharp for your last rehearsal!”

Karen smiled and Matt patted Miss Claire’s arm, and they parted for the night, their hearts strangely calm given the circumstances.

“What do you want to do when you’re older?” Karen asks as they’re sipping their drinks, sitting on the cold benches of the park that they had not visited in almost a whole month. The lamps on the street corners lit up Karen’s face in a way that Matt could not believe, and under the sound of the quiet buzzing of the bulbs and soft flittering of leaves blown by the wind, Karen’s question didn’t sound ridiculous at all, especially not at this age.

Matt glanced at his watch as he answered – ten past ten, they still had at least twenty minutes. “What do you mean?”

“Like, when you’re old and wrinkled, and can barely manage to wipe your own bum, and humbled and weathered by your past experiences.” Karen looks at Matt and wrinkles her nose in a quiet giggle. “That sounded really stupid, didn’t it?”

Matt shakes his head as he laughs too, but consensually and respectfully. “No, no it’s … real. I guess, I want to be _something_. Like, I don’t want to be alone,” – at which Matt twines the fingers of his free hand into Karen’s – “I want to know I’ve done things, ground breaking things, to know I’ve _done_ something, and maybe things I’ve sucked at and gone _okay, at least I’ve tried_ , and things I’ve been great at and shared things with people. I guess it’s not a thing to put into words, maybe.” He gets all of this out almost timidly and hurried and it makes the silence around them more shallow, like the universe was soaking that statement up, and it was reconsidering separating them.

It’s a little more of silence before Karen lets out a huff of breath that turns into white in the cold night air, and she kissed Matt slowly and deeply. When they parted _god-knows-how-long_ later, Matt asks her what she wanted.

“ _You_.” Was all she said and they kissed again, and it was mellow and possibly perfect and Matt thought maybe if his case with the universe doesn’t come through and he doesn’t win and Karen has to leave, maybe just having this memory of them sharing this would be enough to sustain him at least until they saw each other again, even if they were old and wrinkly and could barely wipe their bums.

He didn’t really notice the night leave them, didn’t feel the sheets wrap around them both and fall away as morning came, didn’t remember the lunch they had down by the art museum, didn’t feel them getting their gear ready for their two hour rehearsal with Miss Claire, didn’t hear Miss Claire wishing them luck and kissing them both on the cheeks, didn’t _forget_ the kiss him and Karen shared in the taxi to the theatre, and suddenly he found himself sitting in his dressing room in costume, made up, staring at himself in the mirror.

He didn’t look distinctively different, but he felt slightly numb inside, from the tips of his fingers onwards, like he had touched something too hot and his body was still recovering. There was faint powder to keep any sweat at bay, simply until they could reapply it at interval, and of course stage makeup so Matt didn’t look washed out under the lights. But other than that, he couldn’t see anything wrong. Then the reason why he was here today came back to him and everything he saw took on a new perspective – things were brighter, sharper.

This was it, and Matt let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. This was it – four days of this and Karen leaves. Because he wasn’t afraid of performing, he was afraid of what comes after the performance ends. He would pirouette forever, he _could_ pirouette forever, until he couldn’t ever again, if it meant Karen could stay and it didn’t come between her and her responsibilities. Then there was a knock that shouldn’t have startled Matt as much as it did, but Matt cleared his throat, cleared his head, and said _come in_.

Karen peeked in meekly, her hair done in loose ringlets and tied up with baby blue ribbons. “Hey.” She whispered before she fully opened the door to lean against it with her arms behind her back.

“How do I look?” She looked like a doll – she wore a white half-chiffon half-silk looking nightgown, tight at the bust and flowing down to her ankles in a classic Clara style.

“Fantastic, Kaz.” Matt smiled, hand reaching up to brush his forever growing fringe back only to realize the makeup girls must’ve gelled it back to keep it out of his eyes – instinctively he had gone to run his hands through it, a nervous tic he had developed.

“Are you excited?” She said, and entered completely, shutting the door behind her.

“Yeah, Kaz. Yeah.” Matt said, and smoothed his fringe back again. “God, this is it. First night. I can never get over that feeling in your stomach, like someone’s burrowing in deep and hammering against the walls; settling in for what’s to come.”

Karen smiled and sat in the make up chair adjacent to him, and Matt didn’t know where she had kept it, since the nightgown didn’t have pockets, but she pulled out a small pouch. It was lavender, and it sat neatly in her hand, smaller than the size of her palm. “I’ve brought something for you.”

Matt didn’t know whether to take it and open it himself or to wait for Karen to show him what exactly she had brought, and he looked between the pouch and her eyes.

“What is it?”

“It’s … something that I’ve had for a while. It helps, me, anyway.” She said as she opened the pouch and pulled out a small delicate piece of green – “Luck o’ the Irish.” She smiled.

She offered the small four-leaf clover to Matt, and he carefully took it. He rolled the stem between his fingers, and the four leaves twirled until they were a faint green blur. “I thought you were Scottish?”

Karen rolled her eyes. “It came to me on the night of my first professional performance. Swan Lake, it was. I found it, in the park.” Karen smiled, crossing her fingers and resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s for luck.”

“I gathered.” Matt laughed with a quiet huff. Karen looked like she was about to say something, but the door opened, and the runner told them it was rehearsal time. Karen nodded and got up, and Matt let the green leaf clover sit on his makeup stand.

“Come on,” Matt smiled as he took Karen’s hand, leading her through the corridors to the stage. Their warm up was like falling back into familiar footsteps – they hadn’t rehearsed like this for weeks; their bones ached with the want of each other, the familiar movements welding them together like it was meant to be.

“Hips,” Matt murmured to himself as he fell into the bittersweet dance choreography, and Karen laughed quietly as she twirled – that was from their first night together; they both remembered it like it was yesterday. Thinking about how far they’ve come, the months spent together and apart rehearsing their dance – it was like they had grown up with each other, and they couldn’t remember a time when the other wasn’t in their lives.

“And arabesque,” Karen murmured to herself, gracefully kicking back and allowing Matt to lower her to the floor, letting her raised finger touch the hardwood floor before Matt straightened her again.

“Five to opening.” The runner said as he passed the studio, clipboards clutched in one hand and the other gripping the microphone attached to his headset. Matt breathed deeply as they separated to compose themselves.

“This is it.” Karen whispered, and apart from the sound of preparation coming from the stage, there was nothing but companionable silence between the two dancers. They stretched and _breathed in two three four_ and _hold two three four_ and _out two three four_ and offered supportive _it’s gonna be great_ and _you’ll be brilliant_ s and tried to settle their ruffled feathers.

“Are you ready?” Matt asked as the runner came by again to collect them – his fingers drummed restlessly against his clipboard as he leant against the doorframe, waiting for the dancers to follow him to open the show. Karen nodded and smoothed down a crinkle in the front of her dress, the chiffon rustling softly.

Matt took her hand gently and they made their way through the darkened hallways and sometimes other runners or dancers waved and smiled at them in the half dark, reminding them of why they were really there.

“- njoy _The Nutcracker_!” The show opener announced, and there was the applause of a life time, like clams snapping amidst a sea of black bared down below the stage, and Matt took an experimental breath, like _yes, I’m still breathing, so this is real and we’re all real and this is now._ He gave Karen a supportive squeeze and that was it before she teetered off to open the show.

The curtains opened and again the applause thundered down like Zeus himself had paid a special visit to the performance, and Matt marvelled at how statue still Karen was, poised and ready on the stage, waiting for the cue from the orchestra.

Of course – she was a prima ballerina from Scotland, and Matt’s never seen her perform before now. If she had nerves of steel, he wouldn’t have known about it. She looked so calm, tranquil, and then she began to dance, and Matt saw what he had been missing between all of those practices between him and Karen.

She was far more graceful and ethereal than Matt had ever realized – there’s only so much regular ballet clothes and rehearsal studios and mirrors can tell someone about the abilities of someone else. But here, on stage, with the black framing her figure and the cream night gown, each kick was as precise and marked as it had ever been and could ever be, and each movement simply fitted with Karen’s figure and her arms and her legs and her entire body like she was built for this character, this _Clara_. She pirouetted once, simple and clean, only now Matt could _see_ the work behind it.

He’s worked her through that pirouette before, stood well clear as she did it time and time again and gave her feedback on the turn of her head, the twist of her hips, the crook of her knee.

He realized just how complex the art form of ballet was, right there backstage from the opening act of _the Nutcracker_ , right on opening night – realized how much work he’s put into it throughout his small phase of dedication to it, compared to other dancers, realized the opportunity he’s being offered now, being offered to him _and_ Karen, and smiled. He hoped the universe could hear his quiet _thank you_ as his lips parted silently.

Karen turned to the side of the stage with a wide kick and as her eyes met Matt’s she smiled, and it was a brilliant sight – as happy as he’s ever seen Karen, ever. It was more present than her smiles in the mornings, when she wasn’t really all put together yet, still pliant from sleep. Karen continued around the stage, and Matt could hear slight murmurings – hopefully of approval – from the audience as they took in the remastered choreography. Then he remembered the two special guests attending here tonight – Moffit and Gattis, as well as the two special guests of their lives.

Karen must’ve remembered too, because Matt saw the way she picked up each of her movements, like she knew they were watching. He wasn’t sure anyone else could see what he saw – not Rose, not Christopher, not even Miss Claire. Only he could see the hours of work set behind each movement, each easy looking movement coupled with others to form only a few seconds of this fine art. He could _see_ it, pick at each distinctive rehearsal he and Karen had, late at night, after lunch, before lunch, with Miss Claire, without Miss Claire, ones where they kissed, ones where they didn’t.

Karen spotted him again as she ran up across stage and she smiled again, and this time Matt smiled back. Karen faltered away to turn back as her choreography mapped, and Matt smiled again, to himself this time. This was him, all of this. This life of dancing, and Miss Claire, and late night drinking in the park, and lunch at the sandwich place, and friends at premiers, and slight touches under the table to reassure, and more comforting touching elsewhere when privacy was allotted, and hazel-brown eyes and maroon leotards and pale milky skin that matched his in an incandescent light only the universe could cast in the weakest flashes of his dreams.

This was him, Matt Smith, and everything was going to be okay.

When Karen finished, the audience hindered in clapping, obviously slightly confused at the new arrangement of this ballet, but clapped enthusiastically once they knew they weren’t interrupting anything. Karen smiled and exited, knew she did a good job, accepted the thanks from all the other dancers preparing to enter for the second scene, and immediately hugged Matt.

“We’re going to be okay, I can feel it.” She whispered against Matt’s ear, and Matt felt a shiver run down his spine.

_They were going to be okay._

“I’m going to stay.” Karen whispered again, still hugging Matt. “Just for a little longer – unless …” Then she pulled back and looked at Matt, and under the lighting her eyes were a deep green, and it was the first time Matt had been able to make up his mind about the shade, and he felt like this meant something. “come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me, to Kinmylies. Come meet my mum, my dad, spend Christmas with us. Spend it with me.” And then the forest of green seemed to fade back to brown, and Matt couldn’t understand why until – “No. That’s selfish. I’m sorry, it’s the adrenaline talking. I’m just excited from the show, you don’t have to. You have your own family here, you don’t have to come, why would you –“

“I’ll come.” Matt said, and even though Karen was staring at him it was like the first time she had properly seen him since she got off the stage.

“What?”

“I’ll come with you, of course. Mum and LJ can miss me for one year, they won’t mind. I’m a grown man, Kaz.” He quirked a smile, and immediately the air of seriousness was broken – the illusion of forever goodbyes was broken, at least until after the new year.

“You’ll come?”

“I’ll come.” Matt smiled, and then Karen smiled and hugged him tighter, squeezed him and it was so good to just hold Karen like this, to know they still have at least a month together.

“What about afterwards?” She whispers, and Matt just knew, knew she was going to bring it back up again. “After the new year?”

Matt laughs, quietly so the audience doesn’t hear him. “I guess you’ll just have to take a lot of performance jobs here, in London.” He feels rather than sees Karen grin against the junction where his shoulder meets neck, through the thin fabric of his jacket.

“If you’re lucky, maybe.” Karen smiles as she turns back and gives Matt a small chaste kiss on the lips, careful not to rub any of her brilliant red lipstick off in the process.

“I want you to meet mum, though.” Matt says, and Karen’s face softens. “Before we leave. She’d love you.”

“You really think so?” Karen says, and she looked genuinely concerned. Matt imagined his mum meeting Karen, imagined Laura Jayne meeting Karen, and smiled despite himself.

“Nah, I think they’d hate you.” He teased, and Karen pinched his arm where she’s got her arm wrapped around.

“You’re terrible, Smith.” She grins.

“Nothing compared to thee, Gillan.” He nods.

“Shakespeare?” Karen quirks an eyebrow, offering the joke.

“Smith.” Matt replies, and together they laugh quietly as the chorus group twirl in perfect sync, the old joke coming back to them.

“We’re going to be okay, Matt.” Karen finally whispers, when the music crescendos and drops to a quiet murmur as the dancers scatter and reassert their positions on the stage.

Matt kisses the Karen’s temple, where she’s got her head resting on Matt’s shoulder, and they’re watching the performance. He hums in agreement, and Rose smiles at them two as she nears the wings, then back to the audience as the choreography takes hold again.

Matt smiles back even though she’s no longer looking, and Karen does too, because they were going to be okay, even if it meant Matt spends this Christmas away from his family – to which he’s sure mum’s okay with – and Karen isn’t here _all_ the time, and sometimes they can only call and visit and not have much time at all together, because they were going to see each other a lot more now than they ever had a chance to, because Matt thinks he’s won the case against the universe, and finally, the jury’s heard him and they’ve declared him free.

It was like god almighty himself had set down the sentence, and Matt could feel it settle into his bones as Karen settled her head better against his shoulder. He could hear the hammering and the final declaration –

 _They were going to be okay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell I got lazy and surprisingly cliched at some parts, for which I apologize.
> 
> Also a round of applause for our loving and affectionate Miss Claire!

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse my lame excuses for jokes and dialogue between Matt and Kaz
> 
> I want to give all my love to Jess, whom Ms Claire is based off - for helping me through my dancing technical terms struggles, and also for giggling with me about how good Matt was at failing to flirt properly.


End file.
